Love's Redemption
by ElvenLadyofIthilien
Summary: Saga spanning the centuries of lives lived and lost in postROTK Middle Earth centered on Legolas and his involvement with a modern mortal woman. Starts off in present day earth. WIP. Please R&R.
1. Welcome

**Note from the Author**

What would you risk…what would you endure…to rise above the darkness, fear, and pain that enslaves your soul? To what lengths would you go…to be set free by love's redemption? What would you give…for life…for love…to become something greater than you were meant to be?

Hello and welcome to my fan fiction story Love's Redemption. This story is a lot of things; involving different worlds, different times and different lives. The common denominator, however, is whether you are an elf, man, woman, hobbit, or dwarf, and no matter whether you live in modern times or ancient, we as living beings all face the same fears, feel the same hurts and disappointments, and desire to love and be loved. It is in these things that that we may draw our understanding of each other. To overcome suffering and grief and turn it into something of joy and beauty is the ultimate universal experience that binds us together.

Love's Redemption is a drama/romance, novel-length story taking place a couple years after the War of the Ring, encompassing the reign of King Elessar in the Fourth Age, his eventual death, and succession of his son, King Eldarion.

The main focus of the story centers on Legolas' struggles and triumphs during his remaining years in Middle Earth as he undertakes the restoration of Ithilien and endures the passing of his mortal friends. I try to keep the characters as true to Tolkien's portrayal of them as possible with only slight differences in events in Legolas' life. In that aspect, it would be considered AU.

In addition, there is a twist to this story - the arrival of a modern-day mortal woman in Middle Earth and it is with her struggle that this story begins. I know a lot of people probably cringe at the prospect of a "girl falls into Middle Earth" story. I, myself, have read some dreadful ones; but the way in which she travels to Middle Earth is unlike anything you have read. I have borrowed from the Myst games the concept of the linking books; drawing from the story of the ancient race of people called the D'ni but yet, this is not a "crossover" story. I have merely blended those elements creating a rather unique story concept.

For a more multimedia experience with a music soundtrack (pictures coming soon), you can find this story on my website elvenladyofithilien dot com. Feedback and/or constructive criticism is always appreciated.

Elven Lady of Ithilien


	2. History of the D'ni

Disclaimer:All characters and places mentioned are the sole property of Cyan, Inc, J.R.R Tolkien, or Peter Jackson/New Line Cinema. This is strictly for entertainment purposes only and not based on fact. I do not profit from this story in any way.

**History of the D'ni**

In an immense cavern under the surface of the earth we know, lived an ancient civilization called the D'ni. Highly intellectual and technologically advanced, the D'ni immersed themselves in the pursuit of fine art, literature, poetry and music. One of the greatest achievements of the D'ni was writing; not only of great literary works, but of "Ages" - books describing alternate worlds limited only by their imagination. This group of highly skilled people formed the "Guild of Writers". Through these books called "linking books", one could transport themselves or "link" to that world and back again.

Their vast empire was ruled by a succession of 34 kings and flourished for thousands of years. But great was their pride and so easily seduced by power, they were; the D'ni civilization slowly slipped into darkness wrought with corruption, greed, ambition, and deceit. Evil seeped into their hearts and minds. Enlightenment and reason was twisted into violence and hatred. They turned against each other; committing grievous acts of treachery and as powers clashed, the once peaceful streets ran red with blood. The time of the shadows had come and the people hid in fear. As if to punish them for their wickedness, the earth shook and their great halls and monuments that stood as a testament to their pride and arrogance crumbled to the ground. The once prosperous empire fell; a broken and degraded society.

The remaining survivors wandered amongst the ruins in darkness and in doubt. Divided and leaderless, they fled to the far reaches of the ages. A few, however, discovered that the great earthquake had opened a fissure to the surface. They left the cavern to dwell on the surface, casting off their old life and blending in with the culture. Although blessed with long life, much longer than a human's, eventually, they grew old and one by one, they passed on. It seemed that the secrets of D'ni would pass with them, to be forever lost. Centuries passed and in the quiet gloom of the empty cavern, the ruins of the city stood, waiting - for hope…for life. One day, the most unlikely of people, a lonely old man who had made his home in a broken down trailer in the New Mexico desert, stumbled upon an unusual cleft in the desert sands - the passage to fallen D'ni Empire. Rumor spread about the long lost civilization and archaeologists and explorers came from all over to investigate. The D'ni Restoration Council was formed to unravel the mystery of its demise and restore the empire and all of its ages to what they once were.


	3. Of Love and Loss

Disclaimer: All characters and places mentioned are the sole property of Cyan, Inc., J.R.R. Tolkien, or Peter Jackson/New Line Cinema. This is strictly for entertainment purposes and not based on fact. I do not profit from this story in any way.

**Chapter 1 - Of Love and Loss**

When all is taken from one, the only hope that remains is what is given by another. Through this giving, both are redeemed. - Regettavok Oorpah; Book 2, Entry 1071, Item 54

_"Charging to 300."_

_"Clear!" The lifeless body jolted up off the gurney. _

_"Patient is still in asystole."…"Starting chest compressions."_

_She leaned over her patient pumping furiously on his chest, unfazed even after she felt a definite snap. She knew immediately she had broken one of the patient's ribs. _

_"Time?!" she called out. _

_"Twenty minutes." one of the nurses stated. _

_"Dr. Blakely…" _

_She didn't hear him. She was so intently determined to save her patient, she didn't realize that Dr. Goldstein and rest of the E.R. staff had stopped their resuscitation efforts and were staring blankly at her. Sweat was forming on her brow and her breathing was ragged. She stopped only to wipe the rivulets of perspiration away with her sleeve. _

_"Jordan!" Dr. Goldstein snapped. Jordan looked around the room. _

_"What's the matter with all of you?!" she yelled. "Help me! Get me 3 mg of Atropine, now!" Dr. Goldstein walked around to the other side of the gurney placing his hand on Jordan's shoulder. _

_"Call it." _

_"No!" _

_"He's gone, Jordan. Even if you manage to get a rhythm, he will have sustained significant brain damage. You know that. We did everything we could." _

_She stopped the chest compressions and stumbled back from the gurney and out of the grasp of her colleague. Gazing down at the lifeless man; she studied his face for a moment. She wondered what his name was. The paramedics had little time to convey any personal information, just his vitals and that he was victim in what looked like a robbery attempt with multiple gunshot wounds to the upper chest and abdomen. For what? Some cash to buy drugs? Senseless. She didn't understand people. She rubbed her forehead with her hand. Everything was a blur. _

_"Call it." Dr. Goldstein said softly. Jordan looked up at the clock. _

_"Time of death: 1:15 a.m."…_

-------

"Miss?"

Jordan Blakely, seemingly in a trance, blinked her eyes a few times. She was consumed in thought until she heard a woman's voice.

"Miss?"

"Huh?...What?"

Jordan looked up into the face of a smiling young woman in a stewardess' uniform and she finally became aware of her surroundings again. She was on a plane to New Mexico.

"Would you like something to drink?" The young woman asked.

"Uhh…I'll have a glass of Merlot, please."

"Certainly. I'll be right back" The young woman said pleasantly and then adding, "Are you alright, miss?" Jordan seemed to look through her rather than at her. "Oh…yeah…I'm fine, thanks." She said.

The young stewardess was unconvinced but moved on to other passengers. Jordan turned her head again to gaze out the window. She was in her fourth year of residency at Valley View hospital, about to obtain her fellowship in emergency medicine. She had earned the respect of her colleagues; demonstrating the knowledge and ability of someone beyond her years. She should have been happy. How did it come to this? She thought back to her decision to go medical school. She pictured a life of success, a chance to help people, meeting and marrying a wonderful man, and eventually having children. Back then, she had her whole life in front of her.

Her father had been a little disappointed with her career choice. He had hoped she would follow in his footsteps as an archeologist. As a renowned member of the D'ni Restoration Council for many years, he would have been proud to have her work beside him. She sensed his disappointment and during her summers off from medical school, accompanied him on several expeditions to the ancient D'ni ruins situated in an expansive cavern under the New Mexico desert. She enjoyed the time spent with her father and actually assisted him and his team in recovering an important missing manuscript. However, archeology was not where her interests lied. She preferred saving the living, not digging up the dead. After that, Jordan and her father slowly drifted apart. But she remembered being quite taken with the ancient D'ni city and its ages. Its beauty was unparalleled and certainly a feat of architectural engineering. But for all its beauty there was the shadow of bitter loss and grief that mingled amongst the ancient stone walls of the city; the echoes of lives lived and lost. If she closed her eyes, she could almost hear them. Lively conversations in the Great Tree pub; the laughter of children playing in the fountain; the hushed tones of lovers in the dark.

In her first year of residency, she met Christian, a trauma surgeon. He was six years her senior but still had boyish good looks, unequaled charm, and a personality everyone seemed to be drawn to. Although it was well known around the hospital he came from a very wealthy, affluent family, he seemed very down-to-earth; not haughty or arrogant. When he asked her out to dinner for the first time, every eligible woman in the hospital was jealous. At the time, she actually felt proud he would consider her. They embarked on a whirlwind romance. He was her knight in shining armor, swooping in and bringing light to her life when it seemed most dark – when she lost her mother to leukemia. When he asked her to move in with him, she readily accepted. They actually were pretty happy for a time. The subject of marriage came up a few times, but it always seemed to take a backseat to their careers. She wasn't in any hurry, though. She was certain it would happen…after he made chief of surgery…after he got his research grant…something was always a higher priority – for him.

She found herself making excuses on the outside, but on the inside, her hope and faith were beginning to waiver. Somehow, Christian had changed. His focus shifted to advancing his career and financial dealings; things that hadn't been of much importance to him in the past. They argued constantly. He was quick to anger and she was slow to forgive. He became increasingly distant and cold, spending much of his time at the hospital. After two years or so, she watched her future crumble at her feet as it was revealed that he had been having a lengthy affair with a co-worker.

Her mother had always been the one she confided in, the one she could always count on to listen without being judgmental. Now she was gone. About a year or so after her mother's death, her father suffered a heart attack which he survived but it left his heart weakened. In her mother's absence, she took it upon herself to monitor his health, but with a couple hundred miles between them, it was limited to an occasional phone call. It brought them a little closer but their relationship was still strained at best.

There was no one she felt close enough to share her hurts and fears with, not even her father, so she kept it inside and it ate at her. She tried to fill the void with work; numbing her mind to everything else. She logged countless hours, often times sleeping at the hospital. Her new apartment only served as a reminder of her failed relationship. She forced herself to maintain friendly relations with her co-workers but kept her distance. On the outside it appeared to them that she was taking this blow rather well and mistook her actions simply as a renewed dedication and passion for her work. They didn't see the darkness and self-doubt that lay just below the surface.

She began a downward spiral into the darkest depths. She missed the closeness her and her mother had shared and she missed the comfort and familiarity that came with having a partner, a lover. Someone you knew every intimate detail of; to share your joy, your thoughts, and fears. Her heart ached to feel that, to love and be loved. But she had seen enough and experienced first hand at how people treat love so casually. She knew she could never trust in love again.

-------

"Miss?" Jarred from her thoughts again, Jordan looked up at the young woman with the smile still plastered on her face. "Your drink?"

"Oh, thanks." Jordan took the glass._ Did I order this? _She drank it down in two gulps. _Maybe it will help calm my nerves. _"I'll take another one, please." She handed the glass back to the now wide-eyed stewardess. She hated flying. It seemed so…unnatural.

She was ever growing weary at the pain people seemed to cause each other. She saw it everyday in her work; she saw it on the news; senseless violence, destruction, abuse, selfishness, and the decay of morality. There was so much hurt in the world and it only deepened the hurt she felt in her own heart. People in general, especially men, she increasing found as shallow, self-absorbed, immature, and irresponsible. She began to find she just couldn't relate to most people anymore and sometimes she felt like she didn't belong in this world at all.

In her little if any spare time, she would read novels set in times long since past - of kings and queens and brave knights. When honor and valor were held in the utmost highest regard and a man would just assume die by his own sword than to dishonor his lady, and the women were fair and beautiful. No one had affairs with their co-workers. Her clinical mind told her that it was a form of escapism secondary to depression. The stories were only romanticized versions, not a true representation of life at the time. However, sometimes, more often than she'd like to admit, she wished to be part of those stories. To have such a love unlike any other; a bond that nothing or no one could break, withstanding even time itself. One look, one touch, and you knew. In his eyes, love and kindness; in his arms, strength and comfort.

Although she did her best to hide it, the long hours and emptiness inside began to take its toll. The darkness was winning and the impending defeat was etched on her face. Her skin was pale and eyes that once sparkled were now dark and lifeless. She thought of the cold beauty of the old D'ni city and the sadness that hung in the air and she was reminded of herself. _We are one, my sister_ and she raised her glass in toast.

The cheerful stewardess returned to retrieve her empty glass and informed her, much to her relief, they would be landing soon. Shortly after, the seat belt sign came on and the captain announced they would begin their descent.

-------

Getting through baggage claim and securing a car rental went without incident. She put her backpack and other bags in the trunk and began the four hour drive through the New Mexico desert to the cleft. The idea to go to D'ni started off as nothing more than a fleeting thought but once it entered her head, it wouldn't let go. She tried to push the thought from her mind, but it would come drifting back in like a gentle voice carried on the wind. Some unseen force was calling her there and it would not go unanswered. For weeks, it gnawed at her, unrelenting. At the same time, as if it were fate, Jordan's supervisor and mentor at the Hospital had been noticing her emotional struggle and requested that Jordan take a leave of absence. With this new-found time on her hands, she was now free to answer that call. She contacted Dr. Richard Watson, a colleague and long-time friend of her father's, to see if a visit could be arranged. He was the head of the D'ni Restoration Council and if any one could get her access to the ancient city, it was him. She was surprised to learn that there was still a restoration team on site and Dr. Watson was more than willing to accommodate her. Plans were now taking shape and she felt almost as if a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. She requested to be allowed to stay in the now reconstructed guest houses in Kirel, one of the D'ni neighborhoods, much to Dr. Watson's dismay. She rationalized to him that she would rather not spend her time traveling back and forth to the site. _I almost forgot to call him!_ She grabbed her cell phone. Luckily, she still had a signal.

"Hello?"

"Can I speak to Dr. Watson please? This is Jordan Blakely."

"Jordan! Good to hear from you again. I assume you made it to New Mexico?"

"Yes." Jordan replied. "I've rented a car. I'm on my way out to the cleft right now."

"Oh! So soon? I thought you'd at least rest up in a hotel for a night. It's just as well. Victor Laxman - not sure if you met him on your previous expeditions - he's got his team out there stationed in Ae'gura restoring one of the ages discovered fairly recently, Tagirha I believe. He always has at least one or two members of his team on the surface near the cleft. I'll let them know you are coming and someone can accompany you into the cavern."

"Okay." She said. "And Dr. Watson…I appreciate you setting this up for me."

"It's no trouble, although I must admit I am curious to know why you have taken an interest in D'ni again. You haven't been back since your father was on the Restoration Council."

"Um, I'm not really sure. I, well, I had some time off of work and…." Her voice trailed off.

"You've felt the call, haven't you? The call of D'ni." He said quietly. There was silence on the line and then a sigh.

"Honestly, I don't know. I feel something…that maybe I ….." She searched for a way to explain without revealing the depth of her fragile emotional state, "That maybe there is something more for me and maybe that something is in D'ni." She finally got out.

"I hope, then, you find what you're looking for." Dr. Watson said kindly. "Oh! I probably should mention that Jeff Zandi, Elias Zandi's son, is out there as well." His tone turned serious. "He and the DRC had, well, a kind of falling out due to circumstances I won't get into at this time. He's heading up his own research now. You might do well to steer clear of him, if possible. Lately, he has been strongly opposed to any outside visitors"

"I'll take that into consideration. Thanks."

"Okay, be careful, Jordan." He replied. "D'ni can still be a dangerous place. Make sure you stick to the DRC-approved areas okay? If there is any question, ask Victor."

"Thank you. Goodbye Dr. Watson." And with that she hung up the phone.


	4. To D'ni

Disclaimer: All characters and places mentioned are the sole property of Cyan, Inc., J.R.R. Tolkien, or Peter Jackson/New Line Cinema. This is strictly for entertainment purposes and not based on fact. I do not profit from this story in any way.

**Chapter 2 - To D'ni**

* * *

_July 2004_

_New Mexican desert_

The lonely desert road stretched out before her like a gray ribbon across the desolate landscape. She hadn't seen another car for miles. Jordan glanced down at the miles on the car's trip counter. _Still another hour or so…_ Thoughts of the ancient D'ni city slowly came to her. The _empty_ city. Save for Victor, Zandi, and their respective restoration teams, she would be alone in the city for most of her visit. Fear started to gnaw at her mind. She wondered if maybe she was making a mistake coming to D'ni. Not that she minded being alone. In fact, her desire for solitude had been increasing over the past few months, but in D'ni, the emptiness, loss, and sadness that hung in the air and lurked in every dark corner was almost tangible. This kind of environment might only deepen her despair. The presence of the restoration teams worried her, too. A lone woman in a practically empty city? She could encounter any one of them wandering around the city or neighborhoods; a remote part of the city perhaps, and what if they tried to take advantage of her or hurt her? She had no way of protecting herself and there would be no one around to help her. "This was really stupid. What was I thinking?" She said to herself. "No. Dr. Watson knew who would be out there and he wouldn't have allowed the visit if he didn't feel he could trust them. No. It will be okay." She tried to assure herself. "More than likely, the teams will be in other ages, and preoccupied with their work."

-------

_Jordan looked at the clock. Her shift was almost over. _

_"Jordan, can I speak to you in my office a moment?"_

_ She looked up. Dr. Hildreth, the head of emergency medicine, her supervisor, was motioning Jordan over. Dr. Hildreth was a very imposing woman at six feet tall with a muscular build, shoulder length blond hair and steely gray-blue eyes. Jordan had been intimidated by her when she first came to work in the E.R., but she came to be Jordan's mentor and eventually somewhat of a friend through the years and one of the only people she trusted at the hospital. _

_"Can it wait 'til I've signed off on my patients?" Jordan asked. _

"_Go ahead." Dr. Hildreth said. "Come find me when you're done?" _

"_Sure."_

_Jordan signed off her patients to the next attending on shift and made her way to Dr. Hildreth's office. _

_"Come on in," Dr. Hildreth called out, "Have a seat." _

_ Jordan sat down wearily in the chair near Dr. Hildreth's desk. Before Dr. Hildreth could say anything, Jordan blurted out: _

_"Is this about the patient I lost? The one with multiple gunshot wounds?" _

_"No." Dr. Hildreth shook her head. "You know the committee has already reviewed that case and determined that no one was at fault. No. This is not about that."_

_Jordan slumped down in the chair and looked at an imaginary object on the floor. Dr. Hildreth continued. "I have become increasingly concerned about you over the last few months; all the hours you've been working; sleeping in the employee lounge. You don't look well. Others have noticed it too. I know you've gone through some tough times..." _

_Jordan sat up straight and looked her in the eyes. "And I would never intentionally let it affect my work!" she said defensively. _

_"Jordan, no one is calling your abilities in to question." Dr. Hildreth said calmly. "I just think you need to take some time off and get away from the hospital for awhile. I'm requesting that you take a leave of absence." _

_"No." Jordan said firmly. "That's not necessary. I'm fine." _

_"I figured you would say something like that. Okay, it's not really a request, it's an order; starting at the end of your shift. I've already submitted the paperwork." _

_Jordan stood up. "You can't do that to me!" She said angrily. _

_Dr. Hildreth raised her voice to match Jordan's. "As your supervisor I assure you I can and I am!"_

_ Jordan sat back down in the chair and groaned. _

_"Jordan," Dr. Hildreth said kindly, "have you considered talking to someone about what you're going through? You know we have some really good counselors up in the psych department." _

_Jordan snorted. "If anyone happened to find out I was attending counseling sessions, it could undermine my credibility." _

_"Okay, okay. How about someone outside of the hospital? I could get some recommendations." _

_"No." Jordan sighed. _

_"Jordan, I've known you for a long time. I've seen the changes you've gone through. Believe me when I say I do truly care about you. I want to see you come back to the world of the living. I wouldn't have gone to such extremes if I didn't." Dr. Hildreth said softly. "Please, Jordan. Take this time to make yourself whole again. Go and find what it is you are missing..."_

-------

She noticed a fence now running along the left side of the road. That was her sign. She spotted the old dirt road she would need to take up ahead. Turning off the paved road, she pulled up to a metal gate with a foreboding sign - Private property. Violators will be prosecuted to the fullest extent of the law. She put the car in park and dug in her bag for the key Dr. Watson had sent her. The gate was rusty and the paint was peeling off, but the heavy chain and padlock were new. She unlocked the padlock, unwound the chain, and pushed opened the gate. It swung open reluctantly, squeaking loudly in protest. She drove her car just through the gate, then stopped to replace the chain and padlock just as she was instructed. The dirt road continued out into the distance towards a lone hill in the middle of the desert. The cleft was situated just to the side of that hill. That was her destination. She was almost there.

As she pulled up to the metal trailer that sat at the base of the hill, a man came out and stood outside of the trailer, waiting for her. She parked her car next to a large truck already there, got out and walked over to the stranger.

"Hi!" He called out and waived. As she approached, he stuck out his hand.

"I'm Zachariah Bradford, but you can call me Zach. I'm working with Victor Laxman's team. You must be Jordan."

She shook his hand. "Yes. Jordan Blakely. Nice to meet you."

"You too. Do you need help with your bags?" He asked.

"No. Thanks though. I can get them."

She made sure she had packed carefully. She wanted to be able to pack everything in without much assistance, so she used a large external frame backpack with her sleeping bag attached and another duffle bag she could sling over her shoulder. After retrieving her belongings and locking up the car, she returned to where she left Zach standing.

"Okay, are you ready?"

"Yup."

"You've been here before, right?"

"Yeah. With my father; a long time ago, though. He was on the D'ni Restoration Council."

"Good. Wanted to make sure the descent wasn't going to freak you out."

Zach slung his own backpack on and together they made their way towards the cleft. Jordan studied the guy whom she would be traveling into the dark places of the world with. She was surprised he looked so young; barely a day out of college maybe. She was expecting someone a little older. He was certainly friendly enough, though, definitely not uncomfortable striking up a conversation with a stranger. His manner of speaking was very animated, making wide sweeping arm movements and hand gestures almost in a spastic way. He chatted enthusiastically as they walked through the desert - mostly about the restoration efforts going on over the last couple of years.

"We just replaced the rail car system in the shaft with an elevator last year. I tell you, it's been so much easier getting equipment up and down."

"Oh?" She said trying to hide her nervousness.

"Yeah. Victor salvaged it from an old mine that was going to be shut down, had it refurbished, and voila!"

He let out a loud laugh when he saw her wide-eyed, fearful expression.

"Don't worry!" He laughed again. "It's totally safe! Haven't had an incident yet."

'_Yet?'_

They finally reached the edge of the cleft by the old rope ladder, and she peered down into its shadowy depths.

"Here." Zach said. "Give me your backpack and bag and I'll lower them down" He attached them both to a rope coming from some sort of pulley system that was set up at the edge. Her bags now resting at the bottom of the cleft, he turned toward her and motioned to the ladder.

"Onward!" He said enthusiastically.

At the bottom of the cleft, she untied her backpack and bag, situated them on her shoulders again, and walked over to where Zach was standing. Zach grabbed a lantern from a shelf carved out of the rock wall and proceeded to unlock the ornately carved wooded door that sat at the end of the cleft. He used no key and the door had no lock. He placed his hand over the carved D'ni symbol on the door. It started to glow a faint blue and then opened by itself. Jordan gasped.

They stepped through the door and into the short tunnel that lead to the shaft. The door closed automatically behind them leaving only the lantern to light the way. The air in the shaft was cool but not cold like she expected. The small tunnel they were in suddenly opened up into a large cavern with a high ceiling and they were standing at the edge of a great expanse - a giant vertical tunnel shored up with a complex network of steel girders.

"The Great Shaft." Zach exclaimed. "We'll only have the little bit of light from the lantern until we get towards the bottom of the shaft where we have some brighter lights set up." Zach's voice echoed and bounced off the walls of the shaft. Opening the metal safety gate to the elevator, he swept out his arm in an exaggerated motion for Jordan to get on. "Your chariot, milady." He said as he bowed trying to do his best noble knight impression.

Jordan peered down into the darkness before stepping on to the elevator. Zach stepped on afterwards and closed the gate behind him.

"Okay. Here we go." Zach pushed the button; the elevator's motor roared to life, clanging and whining as they began their descent into the darkness.

As they descended, the noise of the elevator's motor drifted away until only a faint hum could be heard. Neither one spoke for quite a while as they descended further and further into the earth's depths. Finally, Zach spoke which made Jordan jump.

"It's approximately three miles down. Once we reach the bottom, it's a half-day's walk down the connecting tunnel to the cavern. From there, I'll have to turn right around and make my way back up to the surface, so I'm afraid I'll have to leave you to make your own way to Kirel."

"Sure. I understand. Can I ask what you do for Victor?"

"Translating D'ni manuscripts, mostly," was his answer.

On and on they made their way through the dimly lit tunnel, down through the depths. Zach joked and laughed, rambling on about the day-to-day operations of the restoration, how he learned the D'ni language, and what went into translating a document or manuscript. It was clear that he was very passionate about the work they were doing. The only other person she knew that could translate D'ni was her father. Curiosity finally got the better of her and she asked, "Did you happen to know my father, William Blakely?"

"William Blakely is your father?" He said incredulously. He stated it again unbelievingly. "William Blakely is your father!"

"Yeah, hence the same last name."

"I thought your last name sounded familiar. Wow! No, I never knew him but he is a legend down here! I've read all of his publications on the D'ni civilization. I would have loved to work with him. So, are you an archeologist too?"

"No," She said. "I'm a doctor."

The small tunnel opened up to a large semicircular platform or balcony built high upon the cavern wall and the view stopped Jordan in her tracks. She had forgotten the strange and unique beauty of D'ni, as it seemed so long ago since her last expedition with her father. From this height, she could see the vastness of the cavern, stretching out as far as the eye could see. The bottom of the cavern was filled with water forming a large lake. Ae'gura, the island city, was visible far off in the distance; an imposing spire of rock rising out of the water to a towering height. The platform itself was covered in rich tile patterned with reds and browns and had an ornately carved handrail with softly glowing lights at each post. The tile was well worn and was cracked in many places. In the center stood a tall stone pillar decorated with D'ni symbols and some sort of large crystal resting on the top, giving off a faint light. Kirel stood off to their right, a good length down the shoreline, built up against the cavern wall. Dwellings with many windows and balconies made of light gray stone, all stacked on top of each other, appeared as if they had been carved from the cavern wall itself. From her vantage point, she could see a waterfall cascading out from a crack in the solid rock above Kirel; the D'ni water source. All of the windows and the balconies were dark but the streets and common areas were dotted with twinkling lights that danced on the lake. The light source for the cavern was a bioluminescent algae that floated on the lake bathing the cavern and the gray walls of the city in a calming blue-green glow. Except for the faint sound of water lapping against the cavern wall, the city was silent.

"Are you going to be okay on your own?" Zach asked.

"Sure. I'll be fine."

"Alright then. Just head down the stairs and follow the walkway." He said pointing to the top of the staircase. "On one side of the walkway is the lake; the other side, the rock cavern wall, so you really can't stray from the path, and it only leads to Kirel. If you want a hot meal, the Great Tree pub, or Kahlo pub in the old D'ni language," he added, "is at the end of Tokatah Alley and is open on a limited basis. Not a big selection, but if you're hungry, it'll do. I think Zandi managed to bring down some beer and wine, too."

"Okay, thanks Zach." Jordan held out her hand.

"You're welcome. Enjoy your visit." He said shaking her hand. "See ya." He waved and disappeared back into the tunnel.

There is no differentiation of day and night in the cavern. Zach had mentioned something about it, that before the fall, the bioluminescent algae had a certain cycle that simulated night and day, but the colonies of algae had been practically decimated and this cycle no longer functioned. D'ni was now locked in eternal twilight. She walked over to where the staircase descended and looked down. It was a dizzying sight. The stairs went down for miles it seemed; hundreds of them; with many landings, zigzagging down to the floor of the cavern. Both the stairs and the walkway maintained the exact design as the balcony; the same red and brown tiles and the ornate handrail running on each side. By the time Jordan reached her guest quarters in Kirel, she was exhausted. She briefly considered going to the Great Tree pub to get some dinner but then decided against it as she was too tired, opting instead to eat some of the food she had brought with her. She dropped her backpack and duffle bag on the floor and untied her sleeping bag, spreading it out on the bed. She then rifled through her bag, taking out a few packages of food, and sat down on the floor to her meal of dried fruit and nuts. To Jordan's surprise, the lonely sadness she had felt long ago surrounding the city had faded. The air was lighter. There was life coming back to the city again. She wasn't quite sure the way to describe how she felt about it now. Finishing her meal, she neatly packed up what was left in her backpack, took her boots off, and changed in to more comfortable clothes to sleep in. Stretching out on the bed, she drifted off to the gentle sound of the rushing waterfall. _Peace. That was what she was feeling._


	5. From the Ashes

Disclaimer: All characters and places mentioned are the sole property of Cyan, Inc., J.R.R. Tolkien, or Peter Jackson/New Line Cinema. This is strictly for entertainment purposes and not based on fact. I do not profit from this story in any way.

**Chapter 3 - From the Ashes**

* * *

_July 2004_

_Kirel, D'ni cavern_

_Somewhere under the New Mexican desert_

Jordan awoke with a start in an unfamiliar bed. While adjusting her eyes to the dim light, the realization slowly set in that it hadn't been a dream. She was really here. Reaching over to the side table, she grasped a long match and lit the lantern. Soft light now illuminated the small quarters and danced on the walls. She stretched out on the bed, deciding how she would spend her day.

After a meager meal consisting of a breakfast bar and water, she went about packing some additional food, water, and a change of clothing in a small knapsack for the day's exploration. She wasn't exactly sure where she was going as she stepped out of her quarters into the bluish glow of Kirel's long corridors. Navigating the complicated maze of corridors and staircases, she made her way to the public square where the fountain stood, dry. Water had not flowed from it in many years. She sat down on its edge and closed her eyes. She still felt very strongly that there was a reason for her to be here; that something was waiting for her. A chance? A destiny? There had to be something more to this life for her. There just had to be. She remained that way for sometime, listening to the city and letting images wash over her mind like waves. One image stood out to her more than others and it was the library.

The boats that once ferried people from the neighborhoods of Kirel and Bevin to the island of Ae'gura had not been in operation since the fall of D'ni. Some of them had sunk into the lake, the wreckage evidenced by twisted metal and rotting wood visible above the surface. Others sat at the docks, in ruin. The only way to reach the city now was linking through the Nexus.

Slowly, she retraced her steps up the winding staircases and corridors to the linking room. She had linked several times on her last visit but it was a sensation she would never get used to. She likened it to losing consciousness, but it was more than that. It was like your very being was dissolving. The linking room was semicircular with a door on each side and a window overlooking the neighborhood. Around the periphery of the room were several linking books on wooden pedestals. In the middle of the room, also on a pedestal, sat the linking book to the Nexus. All of the linking books sat open to the linking panel which looked like no more than a picture on an otherwise blank page; but in actuality, it was a window to that particular place. The linking panel held vital information about the condition of the world it linked to. The D'ni called these different worlds 'ages'. A clear picture meant the age was stable. If the picture showed static or distortion, the age was unstable and not safe to link to. One only had to place their hand on the linking panel and momentarily you would arrive at that age. She closed her eyes and placed her hand on the linking panel and then she was gone.

-------

Opening her eyes, she shuddered. She was in one piece, thankfully, and standing in the Nexus room. The Nexus was the central point from which most all linking was done. It held every known linking book on a rotating rack. Once you selected your destination on the control panel, it would bring that particular linking book to the front and open it.

The 'island' of Ae'gura was not truly an island but rather a massive stone spire in the middle of the lake. The D'ni had carved streets and staircases right out of the solid rock, sometimes even tunneling through it. They carved niches out of the rock to place buildings and dwellings stretching from the cavern floor; the Ferry Terminal, up to a dizzying height, where the Hall of the Guilds sat. The library was located at the far reaches of what was known as the 'city proper', the central portion of the city. She selected a destination furthest away from the library so she could tour the city before reaching the library. Once again, she closed her eyes and placed her hand on the linking panel. At once, she found herself standing in Tokatah Alley.

After climbing a long set of stairs, she was now in what was considered the city square, which she found rather humorous because most everything in D'ni was circular or curved in design. 'Stairs, stairs, stairs!' she mumbled to herself. 'You'd think with the technology the D'ni possessed, they could've installed some elevators!' She had only seen the city through pictures until now and she stood in awe of the massive stone buildings that surrounded her. Most had sustained heavy damage. There were huge cracks in the stone walls, crumbling pillars, and broken glass. She thought the buildings should have fallen by now, but stand they did; almost in defiance. The D'ni destroyed themselves by greed and lust for power; but their creation, their legacy, would endure. Even in their broken state, they were beautiful.

Using the map Dr. Watson gave her; she identified the buildings around her and oriented herself with the layout of the city. In front of the concert hall foyer off to her left, stood a large tent. It was the DRC's staging area but it was empty. The DRC had the areas with the worst damage effectively blocked off with barriers and bright orange cones. She slipped unnoticed through the city; past the Palace, the Hall of Kings, and down the long street of shops dubbed by the DRC as 'the mall'. As she approached the library, she noticed the DRC had blocked off access to the upper level entrance. One of the pillars in front had crumbled and fallen away and the stairs had large cracks in them, but the lower entrance was left unlocked. Opening the double doors to the library, she was once again struck by its beauty. Just past a small foyer was a large circular room. A wide walkway skirted around the room's edge and the center was open to the upper and lower levels, which were accessible by a grand spiral staircase. The walls curved inwards and upwards toward the ceiling, which supported a large stained glass dome. The glass dome was inverted and lit from within serving as an ornate light fixture. Along the walkway were alternating bookshelves and doors.

She walked around, perused the books on the shelves, and tried to open the doors when she passed them by, but they were all locked. She pulled out a book from the shelf to inspect further and realized it was written in D'ni. She couldn't read it. Putting it back in its place, she tried a few different ones, but they, too, were in D'ni. Disappointed, she descended the spiral staircase to the lowest level. There were no bookshelves down here but there were several doors and she tried them all, but again, they were locked. As she walked around to the area behind the staircase, she noticed a folding table with a stack of notebooks and a few scattered papers on it. She picked up the first one on the stack noticing it had the DRC logo on the cover. She opened it and read the entry at the top of the page:

The story of Kedri - taken from book 42B  
Translation: Nick  
First Draft

Reading the first couple sentences, she realized it was some sort of historical account of a D'ni king. She looked through several of the notebooks and they all appeared to be translations of stories of kings. Some, she noticed, had been translated by Zach. Grabbing a good portion of the stack, she took her knapsack off, casting it aside, and sat down on the floor. She poured over the journals one by one, reading the histories of the ancient kings; some tragic, some happy.

Jordan noticed her back was starting to ache, so she stood up, stretched, and looked at her watch. She had been here for hours; so engrossed in her reading that she hardly noticed the passage of time. She decided it was time to take a break and get some air.

After talking a walk around the library to admire more of its architecture, she climbed back up the stairs, back out the lower level doors, and sat down on the broken steps. Resting her back against one of the stone pillars, she looked out over the cavern. The library was situated high on a rock bluff, and from here, the view overlooking the cavern was amazing. She decided she would eat lunch - well, it was dinner now - and enjoy the view before making her way back to her quarters in Kirel.

Finally, back in her room, she collapsed into the chair, exhausted. It felt like she had traveled a thousand miles and her back ached from sitting on the floor of the library for so long, but for the first time in a long time, she was happy. For the time being she did not have to face the cold, stark reality of her life on the surface, nor the self-destructive and shallow people in it, or the constant reminders of Christian everywhere she went. She was in a world frozen in time and it was a welcome respite. She changed into more comfortable clothing, retrieved her MP3 player and headphone, picked out some relaxing music, and climbed into her sleeping bag. Before the first song was even over, she was asleep.

-------

The next morning, Jordan sat down to a quick meal consisting of a breakfast bar, some dried fruit, and nuts, while she thought of where to go next. She finally decided to go explore Eder Kimo, one of several garden ages. She decided to forego the heavy subjects of D'ni history and culture and indulge in a sappy romance novel instead. She knew from the descriptions that there would be many covered areas with benches to tuck herself away in and hide from the rain as Eder Kimo was subject to frequent thunder storms. She packed her knapsack with more of the dried fruit, dried meat, some nuts and her MP3 player in case she got tired of reading, along with a blanket to sit on.

And thus her days went. She took to exploring a different age each day. A few times, she had dinner at the Great Tree pub to conserve what little food she had left. She conversed lightly with a few of the restoration engineers who happened to be there, but mostly she kept to herself. Each day that passed, her disappointment grew. The ages she visited were beautiful and peaceful, she felt relaxed and even almost at home in D'ni, but her time here was ending. There had been no great revelation, no life-changing experience. She sat in the chair by the window in her quarters, staring down at the empty streets below; a tear silently sliding down her cheek. She wiped it away in anger with the back of her hand. She felt like a foolish child

'What did I expect?' She thought. 'Some magical transformation? A fairy godmother to grant my wish? You're ridiculous, Jordan. It was nothing more than some grandiose illusion made up by a pathetic, desperate little girl. No. You're doomed to live this life you have…alone.'

She stayed in her quarters for most of the day, staring out the window. She didn't feel like exploring anymore. It was over. Soon she would return to the surface and go back to her ordinary life.

It wasn't until late the next morning that she resolved to get out and try to shake off her melancholy mood. Besides, she was feeling restless and a bit claustrophobic in the cramped quarters she occupied. The library, she felt, would be a good place to start. That way, she could have some lunch on the library steps, take in the view one last time, and finish reading the rest of the DRC journals. With only two days remaining in her visit, it would probably be the last chance she got.

As she entered the city square, she heard voices. Looking around to find the source, she saw that the DRC tent bustled with activity. There were folding tables set up out front and a small group of the restoration engineers huddled around one, studying some papers. The others hurried about gathering equipment and other supplies. It appeared that they were getting ready to excavate somewhere here in the city. She skirted around the edge of the city square hoping she wouldn't be noticed, when she saw someone looking in her direction and waving. It was Zach.

_Hmm. I didn't expect to see him down here. They must take shifts manning the surface. _ Not feeling up to a conversation, she simply waved back and continued making her way to the library.

She spent a good portion of the afternoon there. This time, she took the journals outside and sat on the steps, eating her lunch as she read. With her outlook much improved, she put the journals back where she had found them and began the long walk back to the city square

She has just past the Hall of the Guilds, when she heard a loud rumbling in the distance. She looked in the direction of where it emanated from and saw a large cloud of dust rising. She hurried her pace, anxious to find out what happened. As she descended the steps of the Hall of Kings she saw a man sprinting towards her.

"Jordan!" The man yelled and waved his arms. "Jordan!" As he got closer, she realized it was Zach. His face and clothes were streaked with dust and he was bleeding from a small cut on the side of his face.

"Zach! What happened?"

"You…have…to come…quickly." Zach said between heaving breaths as he doubled over in pain, clutching his sides. "There was…an accident. Part of the wall fell…collapsed" He stood upright again, still breathing heavy. "One of our guys was…crushed under the rubble. Please…you gotta help him."

Together, they ran as fast as they could down the stairs, around the Palace, past the concert hall and down a narrow alley.

Broken pieces of rock, splintered wood, and glass lay in a jumbled heap. While a large group of the restoration engineers were working feverishly to try to clear the rock and debris, the rest were gathering up their gear and making the necessary preparations to get the injured to the surface. Although all but one made it out, many of them had sustained injury from falling debris; mostly minor, with various abrasion or lacerations to their foreheads or arms and all were covered in dust. They had just managed to pull the guy out from the rubble when Zach and Jordan arrived. They laid him out in the street, blood pooling on the ornate tile from a deep gash on the side of his head.

"Does anyone have any kind of emergency medical kit here?" She yelled as she rushed in and sank to her knees next to the injured man. She palpated his carotid artery for a pulse. Nothing. She put her ear to his mouth and nose and looked down at his chest. His chest did not rise and she neither heard nor felt any breathing. She quickly palpated his chest for broken ribs before starting CPR. There were several broken and displaced ribs but his sternum remained intact. She hoped the chest compressions wouldn't result in a punctured lung.

"Zach! Get me some sort of cloth or towel, anything you can find!" Pointing at the nearest man, she said, "You! Come here and support his head." Zach came back holding a tee shirt.

"This was all I could find."

"That'll work."

Someone finally brought over a trauma bag, like the ones paramedics carried, and set it on the ground near her.

"We always have this with us. It should be of some use." He said and hurried off again.

Although none seemed trained as a first responder, they appeared to be prepared.

'This isn't the first time this has happened.' She thought.

She had no time to assess his spine for fractures or instability. If she didn't get his heart started again quickly, it wouldn't matter anyway. All she could do was have someone hold his head to minimize any movement of his spine.

She folded the tee shirt up and handed it to the guy holding the injured man's head. "What's your name?" She asked him.

"Michael." He replied hoarsely, looking visibly shaken.

"Okay, Michael. I need you to focus." She commanded. "Use the shirt and put pressure on the wound to his head and whatever you do, don't let his neck move." She commenced CPR pausing briefly every few cycles to check for breathing and a pulse. Panic griped her. She would lose this one just like she lost her other patient. She did her best to block out her fear; to fight it, to keep on going.

'Last chance.' She thought. 'It's already been too long.' The commotion, the noise, everything around her faded away and all she could hear was the thumping of her own heart. As she listened and felt for a sign of life, her gaze drifted past the man's feet towards the pile of rubble. There was something amidst the rubble—a bright silver shimmer.

_What is that?_

It was as if time stood still. She blinked her eyes and tried to focus. She saw it again, a glint of light, like the sun reflecting off metal.

_But there is no sun here!_

She blinked again and it was gone.

All of the sudden she felt something warm on her ear. _Was that…? _She had to be sure. She stayed absolutely still and felt. She felt the warm breath on her cheek again and saw the man's chest rising and falling ever so slightly. The world came rushing in again. She could now detect a faint pulse in the carotid artery.

"I got pulse; he's breathing." She called out. She looked up and saw everyone had gathered around her and the injured man. They all breathed a sigh of relief.

"What's his name?" She asked quickly.

"Victor. Victor Laxman." Michael replied still supporting Victor's head.

"Victor! Can you hear me?" There was no response. "Does anyone have a flashlight?" She asked.

"Here!" One of the engineers came running. Opening one eye at a time, she shined the flashlight in them and only one of the pupils reacted to the light.

"Other than the large gash, he has a concussion and he's in shock." Jordan said, addressing the group. "There is some indication of swelling in his brain, although without some kind of diagnostic imaging, I can't confirm this."

Jordan got a round of thank-yous from the group and while they went back to preparing for the trip to the surface, she checked Victor for other injuries. She found he had fractures of the right femur, right forearm, and possibly the left ankle, the displaced, fractured ribs she discovered earlier, and many superficial cuts and abrasions.

Jordan continued to clean up and bandage Victor's other wounds. Someone had found a couple of small wooden poles and a canvas tarp. Using the scissors in the trauma bag, she cut some strips from the tarp and together with the wooden poles, made a makeshift splint to immobilize his leg. While she was working on Victor, some of the engineers had fashioned a stretcher and brought it over. Carefully, they transferred Victor's body onto the stretcher and Jordan secured his head to it with the remaining bandages from the kit, to minimize any movement. He was as ready as he would ever be for transport. Jordan stood up, looking towards the crumbled remains of the building again. Her mind kept going back to the silver shimmer she saw briefly between the rocks. Zach walked over to where Jordan was standing. She didn't turn to look at him, but continued to stare in the direction of where she saw the strange glint of light.

"Are you okay?" He asked.

His words jarred her from her trance and she turned in the direction of his voice.

"What? Yeah, I'm fine." She said, a little embarrassed she hadn't noticed Zach standing in front of her.

He took her hand in both of his and said, "I can't say enough about what you did for Victor. Thank you."

"I'm just glad I could help." She said. "How will you get him to the hospital?"

"We called in a favor to Jeff Zandi. There is a helicopter waiting on the surface to bring him in. Once we get to the connecting tunnel, only a few will go with Victor to the surface. The rest of us will return to Kirel. We can't have that many people in the tunnel all at the same time."

"Will you come find me and let me know how he's doing?"

"Sure. We gotta go, the helicopter is waiting."

One by one, they linked out of the city as quickly as they could and Jordan was left standing alone.

-------

She stood, unmoving for some time. She felt anxious and uneasy and she wasn't exactly sure why. Her mind kept replaying the strange occurrence she saw earlier. She had to find what it was. Once she realized she was truly alone, she walked cautiously over to the wreckage where she was certain it came from. Climbing over some of the debris, she started looking for something shiny or metal but what she saw was what looked like the splintered remains of a small wooden box wedged between the jagged rocks. Jordan was utterly confused.

'How could _this _produce a light? I know this is where I saw it.'

Whatever it was, it looked important so she dug through the rubble and freed the fragments of wood. What was once contained inside the box was now visible. It was ancient-looking leather bound book covered in dust. She tugged it out from between the broken remains and blew the dust off. It had some D'ni writing on the cover but she didn't know what it meant. Opening the cover, she saw a linking panel.

'Was this a linking book?' She thought.

In the linking panel was the picture of a towering city not unlike the city of D'ni; carved out of an enormous rock face, except that it was a very pale gray, almost white in color with a massive white spire at the top and a jagged wall of rock right down the middle, dividing it in two. The book itself was much thicker than a linking book and contained hundreds of pages of D'ni text. She leafed through some of the pages, her fingers tracing over the word. It felt strange—a pulsing sensation like a low bass frequency, inaudible to the human ear. It coursed through her fingertips as they brushed the pages, but the longer she touched the pages, the more it spread, flowing throughout her entire being. Jordan panicked and threw the book away from her.

Her heart was racing. She looked around to make sure nobody was watching her and then over to the book lying harmlessly on the ground.

'This is silly. It's just a book.'

Climbing back down the pile of rubble, she walked over and picked it back up and quickly stuffed it into her knapsack. As she returned to Kirel, she struggled with what she should do with the book. A part of her knew she should give it to Zach or one of the other guys on the DRC. It was probably of great importance; they might have even been searching for this very thing today, but there was another part of her that wanted to keep it secret. Once in her quarters, she hid the book; deciding to keep it secret at least for now, anyway. One thing she was sure of - she wanted to know what it said. There were only two people she knew that could read it; one was her father, the other…Zach.

Jordan didn't know if she could trust Zach. He could demand that she turn the book over to him. If she could only get Zach to tell her about the book without revealing that she actually had it in her possession. She carefully studied the inscription on the cover, ingraining it into her memory, and set out to find Zach.

Zach was in the Great Tree pub with a handful of other engineers and the mood was pretty grim. Luckily, he sat alone. She didn't want anyone to overhear what she planned to ask him. When Jordan walked through the doorway, Zach looked up briefly and nodded in acknowledgement.

"Hey." She said as she sat down.

"Hey." He said staring into his beer.

"How's Victor?"

He finally looked up from his drink and said flatly, "He survived the trip to the hospital. He's in critical, but stable condition."

"Well, I'm afraid to say, that's more that we could have ever hoped for."

"I know. If it weren't for you, he'd be…" he paused, struggling to get the word out. He swallowed hard. "…dead."

Jordan got a glass of wine and they sat in silence for a quite a while, neither one making eye contact. She stole a quick glance at Zach, finally working up the nerve to speak about the book. Slumped in his chair, his gaze was fixed upon the far wall, but there was a distance in his eyes as if he was not really seeing what was in front of him.

"Zach, what does 'Rehmahrg Teh Dovah' mean?" speaking the words slowly. He didn't turn his head in her direction and instead just sighed, closing his eyes and scrunching up his face, as if it pained him to think.

"Your pronunciation is a little off, but…" He said, running his hand through his hair. "Umm, loosely translated, it means 'Middle-earth'."


	6. Conversations, Revelations

Disclaimer: All characters and places mentioned are the sole property of Cyan, Inc., J.R.R. Tolkien, or Peter Jackson/New Line Cinema. This is strictly for entertainment purposes and not based on fact. I do not profit from this story in any way.

**Chapter 4 - Conversations, Revelations**

________________________________________________________________________

_July 2004_

_Ae'gura, D'ni cavern_

_Somewhere under the New Mexican desert_

Zach tensed and bolted upright in his chair. Leaning across the table, his eyes narrowed in suspicion, locking right onto hers. The realization of what she had said just hit him. In a harsh whisper, he said, "Where did you _hear_ that?"

'Oh, crap! Crap, crap, crap.' She thought. She wasn't prepared to impart her knowledge about the book to Zach yet, if ever. She racked her brain trying to think of a believable answer.

"Uh, I heard my father talking about it." 'Please let that be a good answer.' She prayed. Zach relaxed a little and slumped back in his chair.

"Oh."

"Zach, what is that? What does it mean?"

"Your father never told you the story?" He asked in surprise.

"No." She said shaking her head. "Uh…I overheard it in a conversation." 'Shit!' Her father never even utter the _words_ Rehmahrg Teh Dovah or Middle-earth, whatever, let alone told her anything about it. She hoped it didn't seem strange to Zach.

"No, I guess I could understand why he might not want to." After a short pause, he looked at her curiously with a newfound realization and said, "So, you don't know why he left the Restoration Council then." It was more of a statement than a question.

"He retired."

Zach shook his head no.

"I don't understand."

He spied around the room. "We should go somewhere else."

-------

She followed him to the Great Stairs where they could sit looking out over the cavern. Glancing around to make sure they were alone, Zach leaned in towards Jordan and spoke quietly.

"Okay. On your father's last excavation, a manuscript was found. Now the manuscript was not nearly as important as what was found inside; a vital piece of information about an age called Rehmahrg Teh Dovah or Middle-earth, like I said, in English. Her face fell in disbelief.

"I found that." She murmured to herself, not meaning Zach to hear. 'How could it be possible that I found - no, more like they were _revealed_ to me - the manuscript and now a book both having to do with this Rehmayr..Reg, age, whatever! I can't even say it.' She thought.

"Really?" He said in astonishment. "That part was left out."

"Yeah. I didn't understand what it said or why it was important, but there was such a commotion about it, I just stayed out the way, and shortly after that, I was sent home."

"Well your father and Victor were greatly at odds on how they should proceed with this new information and your father, not wanting to be responsible for the consequences if they should pursue the route Victor wanted to take, decided to leave the Council."

"What consequences? I don't understand."

"Okay, maybe I should start from the beginning. You are familiar with the Guild of Writers?"

"They are the ones that wrote the linking books."

"Right. But the linking books are just short cuts to an age. In order for them to work, you need a descriptive book. The descriptive books are what _define_ an age; what it looked like, what it contained, down to the minute detail. Great care had to be taken not to write in anything that could be conflicting or the age would be unstable. Learning how to write a linking book was easy. The descriptive books required a much greater skill the D'ni called "The Art". In order to be accepted into the Guild of Writers, one had to train for many years and then only a select few, those who showed the highest level of skill, were chosen. It was one of the greatest honors for a D'ni to be accepted into the Guild of Writers and with it came great success and privilege. But there was one who held a mastery of The Art so great, none who came before or followed after could ever rival. His name was Tolkien. We don't know if that was his first or last name, not _much _is really known about him other than what I am telling you now. He wrote some of the most incredible ages ever seen. He achieved great power and status among the D'ni, eventually becoming Guild Master, and there were some that held him in higher regard than the King himself. But with this came a great price. Tolkien's power caused much dissention and jealousy among the Guild of Writers and he had many enemies. Ominous plots of an "accidental" death and whispers of sabotage abound. The shadow of unrest grew silently within the Guild for many years. When Tolkien wrote the age of Rehmahrg Teh Dovah - or Middle Earth for now - it unleashed a hailstorm of controversy and the very foundation of D'ni was shaken. There was a great uprising and D'ni was divided."

Jordan finally spoke for the first time during Zach's telling of the story, "Why would a book, err, _age,_ cause such a controversy?"

"For one, it was without a doubt, the most powerful, _the_ most detailed age ever written. No one in the history of the Guild of Writers had ever possessed such skill. It was so powerful in fact, it scared people. Also, there were very strict laws and regulations governing the writing of ages, passed down through the Guild for many generations. Among all of these, the most important was the law concerning the creation of living things; animals, but especially people. It was explicitly forbidden by the Guild and none had ever, up until this point, even attempted it. Tolkien broke this law and wrote _beings_ into the age of Middle Earth."

"Why was it forbidden?"

"Well, to do so was looked upon as deifying yourself and went against the religious beliefs of the D'ni."

"I thought all the ages, or most of them at least, were once inhabited by people."

"They were, but by the D'ni who chose to settle there. Most of the D'ni people believed in one, called the Maker, who was the creator of all things. They believed that the Maker, not the writer, created the ages; ages being universes or worlds, okay? The Art of writing was considered a gift from the Maker and allowed a link to be established to the age that most closely matched the writer's description. They also believed that the Maker created an infinite amount of ages making up what they called The Great Tree of Possibilities. Metaphorically speaking, the further a writer defined or described an age, the further down the branches of the Great Tree of Possibilities they progressed, dissecting again and again into smaller branches until an age was reached that most closely represented what was written. This was considered "the leaf", the very end of the branch. One small change could deflect the writer to another branch and thus another age, though they might be very similar. Now there was a smaller group that believed that an age was neither created by the Maker nor the writer, but existed somewhere as an _unrealized_ idea. To understand this, one needs to understand quantum mechanics, which I won't get too much into, because _I _don't really understand it all, but basically there are an infinite amount of unrealized possibilities floating around in the universe, okay? And the moment an action is taken, one of those unrealized possibilities become a _realized_ possibility. Are ya with me so far?"

"Kind of, I guess."

"Okay, it's like this. There is a cat in a box. Is it alive or dead?"

"Uh, I have no idea. Dead."

"It's both,"

"What?" She said, dumbfounded.

"Until you open the box. Both possibilities exist, but the action of opening the box makes one of those possibilities a reality."

"Okay, I kind of understand now."

"So, according to this theory, countless _potential_ ages exist in the universe, but the act of writing and describing an age brings it into a reality. Okay. So, we don't know which view Tolkien subscribed to, but this age-old debate was once again brought to the surface and tensions ran high between these two groups. For about a year, the age was allowed to remain but the Guild of Maintainers refused to approve it. Tolkien and several of those loyal to him took it upon themselves to investigate the age and found it stable. It was reported that it was the most beautiful and wonderful of places he had ever seen and Tolkien and his followers revisited the age several times. But mounting pressure for Tolkien to be expelled from the Guild of Writers forced the Guild Council to set up a hearing. They would give Tolkien a chance to explain his actions but he failed to show up. It was rumored that he had become trapped in his own age, or worse, it had become unstable and linking there brought about his death; no one knew for sure. Because of this, the Council had no choice but to rule that he be removed from the Guild of Writers and the descriptive book and all linking books to Middle Earth be destroyed. He did appear briefly, before the books were scheduled to be destroyed, but those closest to him said that he was not the same. Soon after that, he disappeared again. Like I said, not much was ever known about Tolkien either before or after this brief account, until that manuscript you came across.

"What did it say?"

"Like I said, the manuscript wasn't all that important but _inside _the manuscript was a letter signed by Tolkien. There was no mention as to whom the recipient was, though; I assume it was for secrecy. I don't know if the person ever got it or not. It said on his last visit to Middle Earth something went wrong with the age; that there was a great evil there. He hid for a time, watching events unfold, which was his reason for not attending the hearing. A war was coming. But he said he saw strength in the peoples of Middle Earth and he would not let the book be destroyed in hopes that the D'ni might come to dwell there again. The descriptive book the Guild Council had was a fraud, the real one hidden for safe keeping. He said the linking books could be destroyed because they weren't necessary, you could link from the descriptive book. He finished by saying to this person good luck and long life and that he had written another age, secretly, called Dovah, or just simply Earth; that he was going there to stay and to destroy the descriptive book to Dovah when the person got this letter."

"You mean _our _Earth? So, he left the cavern and went to the surface then?"

"No." He chuckled. "We thought that at first, so we ran an extensive search and there was no record of any person with that name. A handful of the D'ni did disappear during the collapse and it was rumored that they actually left to live on the surface; that's a different story. But looking at the document closer, we realized it had been translated incorrectly and that he did, in fact, write an age which was very _similar_ to the Earth we know. Our Earth already exists on the same dimensional plane as D'ni, so there would be no possible way he could write a link to it. It doesn't work like that."

"So, what does all that have to do with my father leaving the Council?"

"Well, when it was discovered that the descriptive book to Middl-earth had most likely survived, Victor wanted to shift the team's focus towards recovery of this book. Your father felt that it was important to stick to the restoration schedule, or they could lose their funding. He thought that the book was a distraction and if they _were _to actually find it, the results could be disastrous if Victor insisted on taking a team in. It was far too dangerous to risk unnecessarily. There had already been too many 'accidents' and Douglas Sharper's death nearly shut the project down."

"Yeah. I remember hearing about that."

"So Victor and your father went round and round on the subject. Now I told you before of the book's power; Victor somehow felt a connection to that age. It progressed to the point that it started to become an obsession. Finally it came down to your father telling Victor that he would have no part in helping him find the book and if that was the direction the project was heading, it was going to be its downfall and he would not be responsible for that. Victor wouldn't back down, so your father left."

"I don't understand why it was such a risk. Don't you guys link to different ages all the time?"

"Well, yeah, but those are well-established ages that we have done extensive research on, and even so, we still have had some 'accidents'. There is, to our knowledge, no additional information on Rehmahrg Teh Dovah. It was never authorized by the Guild of Maintainers. If the age was unstable and the link incomplete, you would die; trapped in some void between the ages. If you did manage to link there in one piece, it's a good possibility that the linking book to return would have been lost or destroyed, especially since there was mention of a war. You would be trapped there with no way to get home."

"So, was that what you were doing when the building collapsed? Looking for that book?"

"Yes. And Victor's _quest_ almost cost him his life and the lives of others." He said almost bitterly.

With that comment, the conversation died off, and they both sat staring out over the cavern. Zach replayed the day's events in his head and thought about how Victor was doing and about what it would mean if this project were shut down. This was his life. What would they do now? What would _he_ do?

Jordan's mind was reeling. She was certain the book he spoke of and the book she was hiding in her quarters were one and the same. It hadn't been destroyed! She fought to maintain her composure. She had the very book that someone almost died trying to find; it was right there in front of them and they didn't see it! She knew the DRC would be angry if they ever discovered she was hiding its existence from them, and they would definitely take it from her. Only she did not want to part with it. But what could she do with it? She couldn't use it. If any of what Zach said was true about the age, it was too dangerous. Even so, she felt almost a desperate need to learn what the book said, what the people and places of Middle-earth were like. Zach could translate it, yes, but he would take it. No, she could not ask him anymore about it or he may get suspicious. She forced herself to think of other things, for now.

They sat in a long, uncomfortable silence until Zach finally said, dismayed, "Your father was right, that book became the project's downfall."

"You really think so?"

"The project has been badly managed by Victor. I think after this latest incident, it's a good possibility we will lose our funding and be dead in the water."

"Oh." It saddened her in a way she didn't understand, to think about everyone packing up and abandoning D'ni; left alone to succumb to the slow decay of time. It was a part of her father; and through him, a part of her.

There was nothing left to say on the subject. Zach yawned and said, "Well, if you don't mind, I'm awfully tired. I think I'm going to head back to my room and get some sleep."

"No. I don't mind. I think I need to do the same." She said softly. She paused, and then added, "Thanks, for the story. I'm leaving tomorrow, back to work, you know, so I suppose we won't see each other again."

"You never know." He shrugged his shoulders. "Thank _you_ for doing what you could to save Victor. Uh, who's taking you to the surface?"

"I'm supposed to meet Scott at the tunnel entrance at 9 a.m."

"You'll be in good hands then."

They shared a brief hug. "Take care." Jordan said.

"You too." And they parted; walking off in separate directions.

-------

Once back in her room, Jordan paced the floor, too anxious to sleep.

'Last chance.' She thought. 'Should I tell what I know? Who would I tell?'

Zach, she guessed. He was the only one she sort of knew. She ran through all possible scenarios in which she would tell Zach and what she thought he would say or do, each one resulting in her losing the book.

'No. I want to keep it…I _need _to keep it. Victor's out. The project is over.'

Who would translate it for her? Obviously, she couldn't have Zach do it. That only left her father...but she would not give him the book. Instead, she would scan the pages and email them to him. Finally, with some semblance of a plan in place, she shoved the book in her bag before she could change her mind, flung herself down on the bed, and fell into a fitful sleep.

Morning came too quickly. She would be late if she didn't hurry. She forced herself out of bed, still in a sleep-induced haze, collected up her belonging scattered about the room, took one last look at what had become her home for the past couple weeks, and left.

As she approached the tunnel entrance, she saw a man standing there, waiting.

'That must be Scott' she thought.

She shook his hand and introduced herself and he did the same. Turning around to look at the cavern one last time before following Scott into the tunnel, she knew she would not be returning and she said goodbye to D'ni forever…


	7. Promises

Disclaimer: All characters and places mentioned are the sole property of Cyan, Inc., J.R.R. Tolkien, or Peter Jackson/New Line Cinema. This is strictly for entertainment purposes and not based on fact. I do not profit from this story in any way.

**Chapter 5 - Promises**

"Errr." Jordan growled in exasperation, slapping at the alarm clock snooze button for the third time. She knew, though, she could no longer avoid the obvious. If she didn't get up now, she would be late for her first day back at the hospital.

She finally threw the covers back and made her way into the bathroom turning on the shower. The ancient air conditioning system in Jordan's building was ailing and the cool water was a refreshing welcome. 'Ahh, the modern convenience of a shower', she mused as the water ran over her head and face; one thing the technology savvy D'ni were lacking. She thought about how she would tell her father about the book she had in her possession, wondering if he would be angry for pretty much stealing an important archeological artifact. She answered herself with an emphatic YES! In fact, he would be furious. He was very protective over D'ni. Jordan cringed at the thought.

While making her rounds in the ER, she ran into Dr. Elsa Hildreth, the one behind her "forced" vacation. Dr. Hildreth's face lit up upon seeing her.

"Jordan!" Dr. Hildreth exclaimed. "How was your vacation? You look great."

"Hi Elsa. Uhh, it was good." She said fairly enthusiastically.

"Well, your color has improved; I have to say it certainly agreed with you." She leaned in closer and lowered her voice. "See? I knew it was just what you needed. You were angry with me, eh?" poking Jordan with her elbow.

Jordan grimaced. "Well…"

"Yes. You were. But I knew it was the right thing for you." She said with a devious smile. "You need someone to look out for you." Elsa patted Jordan's arm and straightened up again. "Well," she said with a flourish, "I have a board meeting." her sing-song voice indicating she was less than thrilled.

Jordan held up her clipboard, "And I have gastrointestinal distress in exam room 3." She said meeting her tone. Jordan started walking towards exam room 3 when she heard Dr. Hildreth call her name.

"Jordan?"

Jordan turned around. "Yes?"

"Welcome back."

Later that evening, Jordan sat in her apartment, turning the phone over and over in her hand. 'Why is this so hard?' she thought. She felt like a kid who had done something wrong and had to face her parents afterward.

"Okay." She said and took a deep breath. "Here goes." She slowly dialed her father's number and cringed.

"Hello?"

"Hi, Dad."

"Jordan!"

"How are you?"

"Good, good. I just got back from a lecture at the university on the man-animal interactions of the Sámi in the 14th century."

"Oh? Sounds…uhh…interesting."

"Liar." Her father said jokingly. "So, I hear your visit to D'ni was not without incident."

"Yeah, you could say that. So you heard about Victor, then?"

"Yes, yes. Very unfortunate. It was good you were there to help, otherwise, the situation might have had a grimmer outcome."

"Well, I did what I could with what I had to work with." Jordan was silent for a while.

"You still there, my dear?"

"Yeah Dad, I'm still here." She paused again. "When I was treating Victor for his injuries…I found something"

"Found something…You mean something wrong with Victor in addition to his injuries?"

"No. I mean I found something in the rubble of the building that collapsed on him."

"Well, what was it?"

Jordan paused again.

"The Rehmahrg Teh Dovah."

It was her father's turn to be silent.

"Dad? Say something."

"So," he said quietly, "It came to you."

"What? _Came_ to me? No, I found it…buried in a pile of rocks. What do you mean?"

"Think about this for a moment. What if the book had not been found all this time, because it did not _wish_ to be found?"

"You're joking right? You're an educated, rational person, Dad. Are you suggesting this book has some sort of supernatural powers?"

"In the conventional sense, no, but there are many things about the D'ni we do not yet understand. Do you remember the last expedition you accompanied me on? The manuscript you found? It talked about an age - one of the greatest ages ever written; one that was once thought to have been destroyed."

"I know, Dad. I know about the manuscript _and _the book."

"Who told you?"

"A man named Zach who works for Victor. He knows the D'ni language just like you and…" He cut her off.

"Oh no." He groaned. "You didn't just hand the book over to him, did you?"

"Not exactly." She said hesitantly.

"Okay, are you going to tell what you _did _do with it, then?"

"I took it. It's hidden in my apartment."

He breathed a sigh of relief. "Okay. Good. That's good."

"So, you're not angry?"

"No, I'm not angry. I'm relieved to know it has not fallen into the wrong hands."

"You mean Victor."

"So! How did you get this Zach person to tell you about the Rehmahrg Teh Dovah without revealing the fact that you had the book?"

'He's changing the subject.' She thought. "I told him I heard it from you. I asked him what Rehmahrg Teh Dovah meant and he told me the story behind the manuscript. That's all." After a brief pause, she said, "Why didn't _you_ tell me about the manuscript? Why the big secret?" She wanted to ask him why he lied about his reason for leaving the council, too, but felt maybe she should save that for another time.

"Well, no, ah, it's not - it wasn't a secret, I just - I really didn't think it would be of interest to you. Your presence in the cavern was more to pacify an old man rather than a love of archeology, I dare say."

"Dad! You know that's not true." Her father never stuttered or was at a loss for words. 'He's hiding something.' She thought.

"Oh, Jordan, I know." He chuckled to let her know he was joking but Jordan sensed a touch of sadness behind it. "You're missing the point, though. You found an ancient document that experienced archaeologists could not find, like it was nothing."

"Luck. I happened to be in the right place at the right time."

"Was it? Then you find the one book that Victor has been searching all these years for and had failed to find. Doesn't that seem a bit odd?"

"The whole place; the D'ni, the cavern, its all more than odd!" she said raising her voice.

"Okay, okay. No need to get upset. We don't have to talk about that right now. So…you found the book, and now you want me to translate it; for that is why you are calling is it not?" He said bemused.

Jordan exhaled not realizing she had been holding her breath. "Yes. So, you'll do it?"

"Of course! I'm just as eager to find out what it says as you are. Do you have a scanner?"

"Yes."

"You'll have to scan the pages into your computer and e-mail them to me; just a few sections at a time. We can't risk sending the book through the mail."

"How long will it take to translate them?"

"Less time than it used to. I have a program now that does the bulk of the work. Richard Watson developed it with the aid of a business associate who is a computer software engineer. Once the program has translated the document, I must then go back and edit it for any inconsistencies and errors. So, depending upon the length of the translation, I would say it could take a couple weeks per section." After a pause he said, "I must say this is all rather exciting," His tone losing some of its seriousness. "It was supposedly the most beautiful and wondrous of all the ages. I have often wondered what it must be like, and now I have the chance to read it in full detail. What does the linking panel show? Is there a clear image?"

"It seems clear, but I wouldn't know what kind of distortion to look for. There are fine lines through the image but whether that is from deterioration, I can't tell. It shows a massive semi-circular tower of white rock built into the side of a mountain range. It has many levels, the first one the largest and then each one becoming smaller in diameter as you go up. There are many windows and archways carved into the walls and it looks like an old medieval fortress. That's about all I can tell you."

"It sounds like whoever built it, must have had some engineering skills. The age must be at least partly civilized. I'm looking forward to hearing more."

"Well, I'll scan some of the pages and send them to you as soon as we hang up."

"Now when you handle the book, take care not to touch the linking panel."

"I will. So…how are you feeling?"

Her father groaned. "How foolish am I to think I was going to escape this time without a nosy inquisition into my health."

"Quite." Jordan said with a laugh.

"I'm fine." He said with great emphasis on the 'fine'. "I'm as healthy a horse."

"Any more chest pains?"

"None. That old Dr. Whats-his-name gave me some nitro, I haven't even used it!"

"Well, 'that old Dr. Whats-his-name' is the best cardiologist in Chicago. You'd best listen to him. You promise me now; you'll go in _immediately_ if you have any chest pain or shortness of breath? I know you. You may think you're as healthy as a horse, but you're as stubborn as an old goat!" They both shared a good laugh. "I love you, Dad."

"I love you, too, Jordan."

"Bye."

Jordan retrieved the box she hid the book in from the top shelf of her closet. She ran her fingers over the worn leather cover. It still caused a tingling sensation in her fingers but not as strong as the day she found it and it no longer frightened her. Sitting down at her computer, she opened the book to the linking panel and gazed at the tall white tower. She let her mind wander. What kinds of people lived or are still living there? What did they do? What did it look like inside? She wished very much she could go find out for herself. All she had to do was touch the picture; but it was impossible. Zach told her there was probably no way back; she could become trapped there, or worse, she could die. There were so many things that could go wrong. But still, there was the slim chance that the link was fully functional…no, it was best not to think about it. She carefully opened the book to the first page of text, placed it on the scanner, and began scanning in the first section to be translated.

In the following weeks, Jordan managed to resume her normal routine at the hospital, albeit a bit distracted waiting for the first translation from her father. After her shift, the first thing she did when she got home was check her e-mail and each time there was nothing. She was beginning to get discouraged. When she finally received the long awaited e-mail, she was so excited she jumped around like a child on Christmas morning. She ran into the kitchen to pour herself a glass of wine to go along with her reading material.

Jordan,

Finally, the first section is done! I regret that it took so long. I had to made several revisions as I am a little rusty, but I am confident now that translation is correct and no meaning has been lost. The beginning is basically 'the lay of the land' as is typical. I found it rather fascinating but you might find it a little dry. Enjoy!

Love,

Dad

She went on to read about 'the shaping of Arda' (as it was sometimes called) - an in-depth description of the various region's geographical features, climate, and geothermal activity. It actually sounded a lot like Earth with mountain ranges, rivers, lakes, valleys, coastal areas, and forests. It was only about ten pages but she read them over and over again, letting the images form in her mind of what it would look like. Her father was right; it was pretty dry reading, like a text book. Immediately she wanted to know more. She wanted a more detailed account. She scanned in another section before going to bed. She knew it would be a while before she would find out those details.

Every couple of weeks, she would receive the completed translation; each one more amazing than the last. When she was done reading it, she would scan in the next section for her father to translate. Occasionally they talked on the phone, sharing their thoughts and ideas on what they had discovered. As they gained more insight into the age, their conversations grew and they spent hours speculating on subjects such as what places looked like, who the people were, how they lived, and the technology they possessed. Through these phone conversations, Jordan grew closer to her father and their relationship strengthened. Jordan rejoiced in this reconnection and in some ways she felt less isolated and alone.

The next couple of sections translated described the regions in greater detail. It was everything she thought it would be and more. Not only did Tolkien describe these places, he went so far as to name each and every one, which was not customary. Places like the Misty Mountains, Mirkwood, Fangorn forest, the sea of Rhun, the Nimrodel, the Anduin River, and the Gladden Fields, just to name a few; all described down to the tiniest element. Again, she read the words over and over, absorbing every detail; each new detail compounding on the old until she had created the most vivid image of what was being described and those images were of some of the most breath-taking scenery she had ever seen.

Further translations of the book delved into various realms and cities; places like Gondor, Rohan, Lothlorien, Osgilliath, Ithilien, and the Shire. It was the description of a particular city in Gondor, however, that struck her. Its name was Minas Tirith and was described as having seven circular levels, each higher than the next, and was made of white stone. It sat at the base of Mount Mindolluin and was surrounded by a large stone wall. It seemed familiar to her. It finally dawned on her that Minas Tirith was the image shown in the linking window of the book. She immediately ran for the phone to tell her father.

"From what I can gather, Minas Tirith had a vast archive of books and ancient scrolls. It makes sense for Tolkien to have created a link to that spot. In fact, it's entirely possible that the linking book back to D'ni is stored somewhere in that archive." Her father explained.

"You really think so? Zach told me there was a good chance it had been destroyed or lost because of a war there."

"Well, having an archive like that tells me preserving history and literature was of some importance to them. If they sensed an impending war, treasures and documents could have been locked away for safe keeping."

"What if they didn't know what it was or if it was of any importance?"

"That's a possibility too, I suppose."

"I guess we'll never know then, huh?"

"Perhaps."

It was this next section that captured Jordan's imagination the most: the description of the peoples of Middle Earth. There was the race of men; their physical attributes very similar to the people of her world, but they lived in autocratic societies ruled by kings and queens, not unlike medieval England. However, there were others that sounded like they came right from a sci-fi fantasy: Hobbits - short in stature with hairy, thick-soled feet, never needing to wear shoes. They inhabited The Shire with its fertile land and rolling green hills. Lovers of all things nature; most of them were farmers or gardeners and lived a simple existence. Dwarves - a stout and hearty folk who were similar in height to hobbits but had long hair and beards. They dwelled deep underground in caves and mined for precious metals and jewels. Then there were elves. She had heard of elves before, imaginary of course; short with pointy ears, but other than the pointy ears, these elves were nothing like Santa's helpers. They were tall, graceful and beautiful. Both males and females had long hair which they wore in intricate braids. But for all their delicate beauty, they were fierce warriors; deadly with both a bow and blades. Unlike any other race of people in Middle Earth, elves were immortal.

So far, her father had translated half of the book. She couldn't imagine what other fantastic people or places she would read about next. As much as she looked forward to learning more, her thoughts always went back to the elves. She often daydreamed about them; what it would be like to meet one, talk to one. Were they like her or so totally different she couldn't relate to them? What was it like to be immortal? How did they spend their time? Sometimes her thoughts were of a more personal nature focused particularly on a male elf she created in her head with long blond hair and blue eyes. She always felt foolish after thinking such things about someone who didn't even exist. It made her all the more aware of how pathetic her life was. Even so, she could not get her "imaginary elf' out of her head.

It was a pretty quiet day in the E.R., so Jordan took to stocking the exam rooms, usually a nurse's job, but it allowed her to be alone. While she worked, she found herself daydreaming about her "imaginary elf" again. This time they were riding on horseback through the woods to have a picnic by a beautiful lake. Her thoughts were interrupted when a nurse popped in, startling her and causing her to blush as if this person could tell what she was thinking.

"Dr. Blakely? You have a phone call."

'A phone call? Who would be calling me here?' She thought.

She walked quickly to the nurses' station and picked up the phone.

"Dr. Jordan Blakely."

"Dr. Blakely, this is Dr. Anderson from the University of Chicago Hospital."

Immediately, Jordan's heart started pounding and her stomach jumped into her throat. She already knew what he was going to say.

"I'm calling about your father. I'm sorry to say, but your father has suffered a massive heart attack."

Jordan couldn't speak.

"Dr. Blakely, do you understand what I have just told you?"

"Yes." She managed to croak out.

"Currently he is awake and resting comfortably but his heart has been badly damaged. He may not have much time left, so I would advise you and any other family members to come as soon as possible to say goodbye.

"Goodbye?" She squeaked as she tried to blink back the tears that threatened to spill over.

"I'm sorry."

She gathered all her strength and took a deep breath. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

She hung up the phone and looked up at the nurses who were standing around listening in on her conversation.

"I've gotta go…my father…I'm sorry."

She ran out of the hospital as fast as she could to where her car was parked and headed straight to the airport, not even thinking to stop at home and pack some things; there was no time.

Arriving at University of Chicago Hospital, she quickly stopped at the front desk to find where her father was.

"William Blakely. Let me look. Ahh! He's in the ICU, cardiac wing. You go down this hall, first elevator to your left and go up to the fifth floor." Said the cheerful young girl.

"Thanks." Jordan replied. Once on the fifth floor, she went to the nurses' station, stated who she was, and asked for her father's chart. She looked over his troponin levels and EKG results. Her heart sank. Flipping through the chart, she noticed a do not resuscitate order, signed by her father. Taking the chart, she headed towards his room.

"Hi Dad."

"Jordan! What brings you here?" He said, smiling.

"Very funny, Dad. What's the meaning of this?" She asked holding up the DNR order in his chart as she sat down in the chair next to his bed.

"Jordan. You know I don't want to be hooked up to machines. If it's my time, it's my time. I'm okay with that. I've had a good life. But I miss your mother terribly and God willing, I'll see her soon."

"Do you really believe that?"

"I do. I loved your mother with all my heart. I can still feel her here." And he touched his heart. "I know we will be together again. One day I know you, too, will find the love that your mother and I shared." They sat in silence for awhile. She thought about what her father said; talking about his own death like it was nothing more than walking through a door. She knew he had already let go.

"We haven't finished the book yet." She said sadly.

"I know." He smiled at her and patted her hand.

"Jordan," He said becoming serious, "there is something I must tell you."

"Dad, you should save your…" He cut her off.

"No. This is important. You must listen. You feel sometimes that you don't belong in this world."

Her eyes grew wide. "How did you know that?" She whispered.

"Because a part of you doesn't; the part that is D'ni.

"What do you mean?"

"Your mother was D'ni, which makes you half."

"No." She said resolutely. "It's not possible. My mother was from Denmark."

"Jordan! Listen to me. It's the truth. Your mother was one of the few that escaped to surface when things went bad. Richard Watson helped get her an identity; he used Denmark because it was easiest to falsify their naturalization records."

Jordan covered her eyes with her hands, rocking back and forth and shaking her head. "No. It's not true. Why are you saying this?"

He grabbed her wrist and pulled it away from her face. "Jordan! Look at me."

Reluctantly, she lifted her head to look at him; one tear silently rolling down her cheek.

"How old was your mother when she died?"

"Sixty-four." She sniffed.

"Your mother was 280-years-old. Why do you think it was so hard to diagnose her illness? Not only was she older than is humanly possible, her genetic makeup was different and so is yours."

It was like someone punched her in the stomach. Looking back on all the tests that were run on her mother and all of the false positives for different diseases; it didn't make sense then. She didn't display the same signs and symptoms as one would with leukemia. When they finally pinpointed a diagnosis, it was too late. She finally realized her father hadn't lost his mind; he was telling the truth.

"How different your genetic makeup is, we will never know. You will not age the same as a human. The life expectancy of the D'ni is around 325 years. Because you are only half, I don't know how long your life will be. But when people around you start showing signs of their age and you remain the same, there are going to be questions; questions you cannot answer. It is not safe for you here."

Her emotions were churning as she tried to grasp what her father had just told her. She went from disbelief to confusion and now anger.

"Why didn't you tell me?" The anger coming through in her voice. "Were you ever planning on telling me?"

"I wanted to tell you but it never seemed the right time, and now, I have none." His voice growing quieter.

"No. Don't say that. You're gonna be fine."

Her father just smiled weakly and reached for her hand. "Jordan, you have to go."

"Go? I'm not leaving you!"

"You have to use the book. Go to Middle Earth. It won't be safe for you here. Promise me."

"No! The book is dangerous. I could die, or…or get trapped. No." Tears were falling freely down her face now. She knew he was fading.

"The linking panel is clear. I do not think that will be your fate."

"I can't just disappear! What I am supposed to tell everyone?"

"Tell them you're leaving the country to stay with relatives. Richard will take care of everything. He knows what to do. He will see to the…cremation," He swallowed hard, "and the house; I've given him power of attorney. Get yourself a dress…like a renaissance costume…and…a dagger." His breathing was becoming labored. "Take only what you can carry on your back; nothing too modern. When you leave, Richard will clean out your apartment and destroy the book."

"Dad, this is crazy!"

"You must go. Promise me you'll do this."

"Daddy, I can't."

"It's your destiny." He whispered. "There is nothing for you here now. Your heart knows what it wants, have the courage to follow it." He closed his eyes and his hand went limp in her grasp.

"Daddy, no, don't go" She said sobbing, trying to clasp his hand to her cheek with both of her hands, but it would not stay. There was no life left in his body. She laid her head on his chest, still holding his hand, and she wept; for herself and everything that she had lost, for her father, for her mother, for everything that is wrong in this world; all of the cruelty, hate, and injustice. The hurt and the anguish and the anger came pouring out until there was nothing left. She didn't know how long she laid there; only dimly aware that the nurses had come in to shut off the heart monitor and disconnect the support lines. Finally, she stood up, smoothed her hand over her father's hair and kissed him on the forehead. "Goodbye, Daddy. I love you." The release of those emotions she kept locked inside for so long was like a cleansing; a rebirth. She knew what she had to do, she had promised, but she didn't know if she could.

In a daze, she walked outside the hospital and wandered into the well-kept gardens they had on the grounds. Collapsing on a bench, exhausted, she stared blankly at the roses. There were no more tears left to fall. Fragments of her father's last words echoed over and over in her head: 'Go to Middle Earth…not safe here…your mother was D'ni…don't know how long your life will be…go to Middle Earth…promise me…promise me.' She sniffed, her nose stuffy from crying, and pulled her cell phone out of her purse. She dialed Dr. Watson's number and waited.

"Hello?"

"Is this Dr. Watson?" She asked shakily.

"Yes."

"This is Jordan Blakely. My father, he's gone." She blurted out.

"Jordan, I am so sorry. He was a good friend of mine."

She didn't think she could possibly cry anymore, but a fresh batch of tears came forth, and Dr. Watson waited patiently for Jordan to collect herself.

"Did he tell you everything, then?"

"Yes." She said through heaving breaths.

"Okay. This is what you are going to do. You need to go home, but don't go back to work; take your bereavement leave. That will buy you some time. You'll need to write your letter of resignation, then gather the things you want to take with you. I will take care of things in regards to your father. When that is done, I will contact you. Jordan?"

"Yes?"

"Everything is going to be okay."

"Okay." She sniffed. His reassuring tone helped to calm her down and she was able to focus more on what she had to do.

Back home, she called Dr. Hildreth to let her know she would be taking her bereavement leave. Of course, everyone was very understanding. She received a few sympathy cards in the mail from some of her co-workers. Finding a renaissance dress in a short amount of time proved harder than she thought as she didn't need just one; she needed several if she wanted to have a change of clothes. She had searched the internet thoroughly, but kept coming up with made-to-order sites that could take weeks, if not months. Finally, she found a few dresses already made and close to her size that would be somewhat appropriate. 'Appropriate for what?' she asked herself. They were only guessing that the culture of the age was similar to medieval Europe. They could be way off. Better to appear less modern than too modern. It might raise questions. She also ordered a delicate-looking dagger with a jeweled hilt from a medieval weapons website.

While she waited for her purchases to arrive, she drafted her letter of resignation and searched her apartment for personal items she would want to take with her. She began to look through photo albums for a picture of her mother and father. As she sat on the floor looking through photos of her family, her emotions hit her like a freight train. They were gone, and she was alone, and no matter where she went, her parents would not be there. She touched the faces of her mother and father lovingly with her finger while her tears fell on the page. "I miss you." She whispered. She picked a picture of all three of them standing in front of the first house her parents bought. She was little then, maybe 3-years-old. Her father had his arm around her mother and her mother was holding her hand. Her parents looked happy. She tucked the picture away between the pages of an empty journal along with a pencil and set it aside to be packed.

She gathered some essential items she figured she would need; a heavy wool blanket, an old army bed roll she used to use for camping, some matches, mittens, and warmer clothes, even though they were modern, just in case, and some first aid items like bandages and antibiotic ointment. The more modern items, she would make sure to keep hidden. She looked sadly around her apartment. She was giving up everything she had. She would have barely any possessions in this new world. She only hoped she could find a kind stranger who would be willing to help her find shelter.

A couple weeks had gone by and she was starting to wonder when she would hear from Dr. Watson. She was getting nervous. She had everything she needed. Her dresses and dagger had come in the mail and all the possessions she would be taking with her were packed in a rucksack. One afternoon, she received a small brown box in the mail with no return address. Upon opening it, she found a small multi-colored glass vial. It had a silver top with delicate vines carved in it. It also had a strip of silver on each side with an inscription in the D'ni language engraved on them. Attached to a loop in the top was a silver chain that one could either wear around their neck or hang it from something. Along with it, was a note from Dr. Watson:

It is finished. In this vial are some of your mother and father's ashes. It has a chain, so that you may wear it and keep your parents close to your heart. Do this and you will never be alone. The inscription reads "When all is taken from one, the only hope that remains is what is given by another. Through this giving, both are redeemed."

I wish you courage on your journey. Trust in your heart and you will find your way. When you are ready to leave, call me and I will take care of everything.

She held the vial up to the light by the chain. The colors caught by the light, scattered around the room. It was beautiful. She put her hand over her mouth and clutched the vial to her chest with the other, sobbing silently. The tears once more fell down her face. She brushed them away and went to go take a shower; the last shower she might get in a while. After her shower, she dried her hair and worked the top half into a braid down the back of her head. She chose the light sage green dress and secured the jeweled dagger around her waist with a long strip of leather. Finally, she fastened the vial around her neck. The other two dresses were folded carefully and put into the rucksack. She took a deep breath and looked around her apartment. She started to have doubts. Why not just stay here where she was comfortable? No one would know there was anything different about her for many years. That was far in the future. No. Her father was right. She would not be thought unusual in a world were immortal elves lived. But would she find friends and happiness in this new world? Would she even make it through the link? Shaking, she picked up the phone and dialed Dr. Watson's number.

"I am ready."

"Okay. Everything you are taking with you has to be on your person, or it will not go through."

"I have everything in a rucksack that I will wear on my back."

"That will work just fine. Good luck. May your new life be blessed."

"Thank you…for everything."

She set the phone on the table next to the linking book and took a deep breath. 'You can do this.' she told herself. She put the rucksack on her back and did a quick check to make sure she had everything. She opened the book to the linking window. It still showed the white city, Minas Tirith. She held her breath and touched her hand to the linking panel. Everything went black. A few seconds had passed but it seemed like an eternity. She saw the white tower appear before her eyes but it was hazy and it disappeared. 'Something's wrong.' She thought. She started to panic. She saw trees - no, a forest, but they were shrouded in fog. Then they were gone. Everything went black again. Her head was pounding and she felt like she was going to be sick. The next thing she saw was what looked like ruins of a castle tower made of rock. The image was cloudy. But this time the image became clearer and clearer, until she felt solid ground beneath her. She found herself on her knees next to a large boulder that had fallen from the ruins.

The ruins were nestled in a thick forest of tall trees. All was silent except for her rapid breathing and a slight breeze rustling the leaves. She sat, unable to move for some time, staring at the ruins and regaining her bearings. Feeling came back into her being again and she realized the sun was shining, warm on her head, and the temperature was rather pleasant. Closing her eyes, she inhaled deeply. The air smelled of damp earth and trees after a spring rain. Finally when she felt confident she wouldn't fall over, she stood up and took in her surroundings. Panic gripped her again. This was definitely not the white city.

38


	8. Strangers

Disclaimer: All characters and places mentioned are the sole property of Cyan, Inc., J.R.R. Tolkien, or Peter Jackson/New Line Cinema. This is strictly for entertainment purposes and not based on fact. I do not profit from this story in any way.

**Chapter 6 - Strangers**

Jordan took a walk around to inspect the ruins. There wasn't much to them, just a small circular structure with arched doorways and windows. Other than this, there was nothing but forest as far as the eye could see. The forest was comprised of tall pine trees which in fact, looked exactly like they did in her world. That, at least, was a small comfort. There were no dwellings; no signs that anyone lived here. She looked up at the sky and thought, 'Well, Dad, I'm here. Not exactly where I expected to be, but I'm here. Now what do I do'? Her main goal upon arriving was to seek out the other linking book at Minas Tirith, but where was it? She could be anywhere in Middle Earth! She decided to change her modus operandi to the more immediate needs of finding food and shelter. But which way to go?

There was no road or trail of any kind she could see. She had no choice but to just pick a direction and start walking through the woods. Although the trees were dense, there was little underbrush except for a soft green carpet of some type of leafy ground cover plant sprinkled with occasional small white flowers. This made for easy walking but as the flat ground quickly turned into an expanse of rolling hills, her progress became pretty slow going. She took a leisurely pace, though, taking in all the sights and sounds. It was a beautiful forest and to her surprise, she felt a sense of security and peace and not nervous at all about hiking through the forest alone. Her nervousness began to grow, however, after walking what seemed like miles with no sight of a town or village or even a road. After descending the last hill, the ground became flat again and she began to hear the sound of rushing water.

She followed the sound of the water until she stumbled onto a narrow dirt road that ran along the shoreline of a fairly large river. There were no tracks or footprints in the dust. Obviously, it was a road that was seldom used, but it was a road nonetheless. 'Thank God for small favors' she thought. This river could be a means for transporting goods or a source of water; there had to be a town or village somewhere near it! By this time, though, she was weary from walking for so long and the light was fading. She would not make it to civilization this night.

She decided to take the road upstream and walked for a ways further before ducking back into the woods to set up camp. She didn't bother to start a fire; she didn't have anything to cook on it anyway and it might alert someone to her presence. She spread out her bed roll and blankets and laid down lacing her fingers behind her head. She could see a few stars now between the tops of the trees and a faint wind gently swayed the branches. 'How long it's been since I was able to look at the stars!' She thought. Despite the convenience of modern technology, it only seemed to make things more complicated. The thing that once took half a day to do now took only 30 minutes but the time saved by technology only served to make people's lives busier; get _more_ done, faster and better. It was what was expected. Life was lived at lightning speed. There was never enough time to get it all done let alone have any free time to just enjoy the beauty of nature or gaze at the stars. More technology, it seemed, equaled more stress. Would a world with less technology provide a better quality of life? She pondered these things as well as her current situation as she studied the stars. Sleep would not come easy for her with the unfamiliar sounds of night echoing through the trees. Eventually, the wind through the trees did lull her to sleep although it was a very restless and fitful sleep.

Morning came with all its brilliance and the sunlight shone brightly through her closed eyes forcing her awake. Her back ached from the hard ground and her stomach complained about the lack of food but she felt relieved she had survived the night without incident. She rummaged through her rucksack for something to eat. Luckily, she had been thinking clearly enough to pack some non-perishable things like beef jerky, mixed nuts, and dried fruit, but she forgot to bring water; not that it would've fit. She didn't know if it was safe to drink from the river; at home it was certainly not, but she didn't have a choice.

After eating just enough to make her stomach stop rumbling - she had to ration the food she did have carefully - she made her way down to the banks of the river, scooped up some water with her hands and drank. It was icy cold, but it tasted fresh and clean. Come to think of it, better than any water she had tasted back home! If it were tainted in any way, she would find out soon enough she guessed. She packed up her campsite neatly; daylight was wasting, she needed to get on the road. 'Only…the road to where?' She wondered. She walked for hours down the narrow dirt road and still no sight of a living being, village, or town. She wished at this moment, she had a horse or something; anything to be able to travel faster. The road continued to meander by the river taking an occasional dip into the forest. By this time, her feet were hurting tremendously. Her shoes were obviously meant for costume purposes only and not suitable for walking long distances. When the road was near the river again, she sat down on a low rock to rest and cool her feet in the water. It was cold, but it did help some. She closed her eyes, letting her mind drift. All of the sudden came a voice from behind her, "You! Woman!"

In an instant, Jordan's eyes flew open and she turned towards the sound of the voice to see a rather heavyset old woman standing there. Jordan shrieked.

"Calm down! I ain't gonna hurt you." The woman said in a loud, abrupt voice. "What are you doing out here all alone? Where is your escort?"

Jordan jumped up and stood facing the woman. "My…my escort?" She stammered.

"Your es-cort!" The woman enunciated. "No decent young woman travels through the wilderness without an escort! Was your party attacked?"

"N-n-no. I have no party or an escort. I am by myself."

"Good gracious!" The woman said throwing her arms up in exasperation. She ambled down to the edge of the river, mumbling something about women these days not having the sense of a mule. She dipped the wooded bucket she was carrying into the water to fill it. Walking back up the bank, she turned to Jordan, "Well, come on!"

Jordan stood there rooted to the spot, staring at the old woman. She was wearing a plain brown cotton dress with a white apron over it, smudged with dirt. Her wild gray hair was held back with cotton scarf. In one hand, she held the bucket of water and in the other hand, she carried a large walking stick. Jordan could tell she was a no-nonsense type of woman who expected to be listened to.

"Well? You gonna stand there all day or do you want to eat!?"

"Um, yeah. Yes. Thank you." Jordan stammered.

The woman huffed and started walking down the road. She may be old, but she could walk fast! Jordan scrambled to dry her feet off and put her shoes back on. With Jordan's feet hurting the way they did, she had a hard time catching up to her, but she managed. Jordan kept a couple paces behind the woman not daring to speak. Without looking back at Jordan or stopping, she said, "So, you got a name or am I just supposed to call you woman?"

"My name is Jordan."

"I am called Maggie. Jordan. That's a strange name. You're not one of those Harad women are ya?"

"No."

"Thieves, the lot of them!" She mumbled under her breath. "Pillage and plunder from us hard-working, decent folk. Curse them!" She spat on the ground.

"What?" Jordan called up to her.

"Nothing. What land do you come from then?"

Jordan didn't know what to say. 'United States' would mean nothing to her. "It's very far from here." Then she quickly changed the subject. "I am traveling to Minas Tirith but I have lost my way. Do you know of it?"

"Minas Tirith? Of course." She huffed, sounding a bit insulted, like this was common knowledge. "You know less than I thought you did, you're in South Ithilien on the road right to it!"

The road had now turned away from the river and was winding deeper into the woods. As they walked, Jordan sized up this woman who walked in front of her. Her manner was very abrupt, almost to the point of being rude; definitely rough around the edges, but she seemed to mean well. After all, she was offering to feed her. Jordan figured she wasn't used to interacting with people much.

Maggie veered off onto a trail that, until a moment ago, was not noticeable from the road. Deeper and deeper into the forest they walked, on the narrow trail which had quickly changed from relatively flat to a moderate incline. Jordan's feet hurt so bad; they were being rubbed raw by her shoes. She didn't doubt they were covered in blisters by now, and she was sure they were bleeding. It had become difficult to walk and she was falling further behind. Maggie, not hearing footsteps behind her anymore, stopped to see what had happening. She saw Jordan walking gingerly with a pained look on her face.

"What's wrong with you?" She called out.

When Jordan managed to catch up with her, she said "It's my feet. These shoes have rubbed them raw."

"Well, it's no wonder!" Maggie said looking down at Jordan's shoes in disdain. "What kind of shoes are those?"

"Apparently not very good ones but they're all I have." She snapped. She was tired and the lack of food and the pain in her feet were making her irritable.

"Well, the cabin's just up ahead. You'd probably fair better if you took them off. Once we get there, I've got some herbs 'at'll fix 'em right up."

'Herbs?' What she needed was some Neosporin and some bandages! She did have some in her pack, but she doubted the woman would give her a chance. She seemed determined to use her herb-lore on her. She did as Maggie instructed, anyway, and took her shoes off. The forest floor was prickly but it felt better than the shoes.

'Just up ahead?' They climbed for what seemed like miles. Jordan trudged on after the woman and eventually the forest gave way to a small lush valley nestled in the hills, carpeted in green grass and dotted with colorful flowers. Jordan could see a small wood cabin situated in the middle of the valley. Wisps of smoke drifted up from the rock chimney. It had a small vegetable garden out front surrounded by a makeshift fence of wooden logs. Jordan also noticed several goats around the cabin, grazing on the grass. About 50 yards from the cabin, there was what looked like a small creek winding down the valley.

"Why don't you get water from that creek instead of walking all the way down to the river?" Jordan asked her.

"Bah! Come late spring, that creek is as dry as old bones. There's a small pond just beyond that tree line over there." Maggie said, pointing to the far side of the valley, "It's not fit for drinking, but the goats'll use it."

As they got closer, Maggie's "cabin" looked more like a shed. 'Well, you know what they say about beggars.' She thought. She followed Maggie inside and was glad to see it at least had a wood floor instead of dirt as she would probably be sleeping on it. Jordan stood near the doorway looking around the cabin as Maggie set down the bucket of water near the small stone fireplace and set about rummaging through some small metal tins on a set of shelves built into the wall. The furnishings were pretty sparse. She saw a small dining table, and near that, a large storage closet with doors on the front - a pantry, maybe? A chair sat just to the side of the fireplace and in the far corner was a small cot; she assumed that was Maggie's bed. There were few windows; one in the very back and one in the front near the door.

"It ain't much." Maggie said with her back towards Jordan, still rummaging through the tins. "Ah! Here it is. Sit." She motioned for Jordan to sit in the chair near the fireplace. Maggie took the bucket of water and poured most of it into a kettle hanging above the fire. The rest of it she poured into a small bowl. She handed Jordan the bowl and a strip of cloth and said, "I can't spare any more water to wash your feet off, so this will have to do." Opening the containers of herbs she selected, she took a handful of each and began to crush them up in a mortar with a pestle.

Jordan dipped the cloth in the bowl of water and began to clean her feet off. There were many open blisters, some of which were oozing blood. Tears welled up in her eyes. She was a capable, educated person; a doctor! But here, she felt so helpless! Back home, this would've been an easily curable ailment, but those shoes were all she had; she still had a long way to travel and she certainly could not do it barefoot. She kept her head down so Maggie would not see her tears if they should fall. Maggie dipped her finger in the kettle to test the temperature, then took a ladle hanging from a hook on the fireplace to pour some of the water into the herb concoction, mixing it up into a paste.

"What is that?" Jordan asked.

"_Athelas_. It is a healing herb. The others are for pain and to prevent festering."

Jordan doubted the ability of these herbs but let Maggie apply the paste to her wounds and bandage them up with some cotton cloth, anyway.

"There." She said, satisfied with her work. "I suppose I should set about making supper now."

"Do you need any help?" Jordan winced as she said it, as it meant she would have to be on her feet, but she didn't want to seem ill-mannered.

"I've been making supper by myself long before you came along and there ain't nothing that's changed now" She said with her head in the pantry, picking out various items and setting them on the table. Turning to Jordan, she said, "Besides, you ain't gonna be any good to anyone if you don't let those feet heal." And with that, she grabbed a basket and went outside leaving Jordan sitting alone by the fire.

The sky was dark by the time Maggie's supper of stewed vegetables and warm bread was ready. They ate at the small dining table with a lantern as their light. The stew was pretty bland but it was warm and it filled her stomach.

"So. You gonna tell me where you're from?" Maggie said through a mouthful of food.

"If you don't mind, I'd rather not."

"Just so you know, I don't usually take to strangers, but you don't look like much - not that you could do any harm in your condition anyway - so I suppose it don't matter where you came from. Why were you traveling alone?"

She had to choose her words carefully. She wanted to avoid using modern terms that Maggie might not understand and cause any more suspicion about herself.

"My parents died and I was alone and it was not safe for me in my homeland. I think I have some, uh, kin who live in Minas Tirith and I am going to go, uh, find them"

'That sounded dumb.' She thought. The last part was a lie, but it didn't sound believable to say she was traveling alone to Minas Tirith where she knew no one to find a book.

"Was your village attacked?"

"Attacked?"

"Yes. That's why your parents are dead and it's not safe, right?"

"No. They died of, um, old age." 'Old age?' She hoped that was a term Maggie knew. "I am, um, different from the people that live in my wor-, uh, land and sometimes people don't understand when you are different."

"You didn't have any sense to at least take a horse?"

"After my parents died, I sold it for food."

She hated lying to her but what was she going to say? I come from another world and we don't travel by horse anymore?

Maggie seemed satisfied with that answer. "Like I said, the road you were on will lead you through Emyn Arnen to Osgilliath. It follows the Anduin River most of the way there. It is about a fourteen day journey on foot to Osgilliath from here, give or take. From Osgilliath, take the river crossing, then, it's only another day's travel to Minas Tirith. Between here and Emyn Arnen, though, are several outposts occupied by soldiers from Gondor but if you've got any mind, you'll stay away from those! Stay in the trees and go around. Brigands and ruffians, the lot of them! Brutes! Were they to spot a pretty young maiden alone on the road? Well, no good could come of it, I tell you!"

Jordan's heart sank. Fourteen days walk? Men who would wish to take advantage of her? How would she ever make it? The rest of dinner was eaten in relative silence, to which Jordan was grateful. She no longer felt like listening to Maggie's callous words. Her first impression of Middle Earth was not a very good one and it seemed that there were plenty of untrustworthy people here as there were back home. She appreciated Maggie taking her in, but she was such a harsh woman with not a kind word to say, it made Jordan feel like it was done so out of a sense of duty and not out of compassion. Maggie seemed like a very untrusting person. Maybe she just needed more time to open up.

Once they had finished eating, Maggie stood up, gathered the dishes, and set them outside to be washed in the river the next day. When she returned, Jordan was unrolling her bedding.

"You'll have to sleep on the floor. All I got is this one bed and my old bones couldn't take the hard floor but I'm sure you'll fair just fine. You can clear a spot by the fire, if you wish."

"It's fine. Thank you…for everything."

"It's what any decent folk would do." Maggie extinguished the lantern and got into bed.

After a few days' time, Jordan's feet were healed to the point where she could walk around a bit and help out with some of the daily chores. Maggie had found some old shoes that no longer fit her for Jordan to use and put her to work weeding in the garden and gathering vegetables and herbs for dinner and taught her how to milk the goats. Jordan found she liked working in the garden. It was hard work but it felt good to be outdoors. The little valley was beautiful and peaceful; the sun was warm and a slight breeze blew, making waves in the grass. In the morning hours, Maggie would make several treks to the river to gather water and wash the previous night's dinner dishes. When that task was done, she would work in the garden with Jordan, teaching her about the different herbs and their uses.

As the days went by, Jordan found herself beginning to like Maggie. She seemed to have softened up a bit as she became accustomed to Jordan's presence. Jordan continued to heal and she soaked in everything Maggie was willing to teach her; about medicinal herbs and about survival. Medicinal herbs and their application were of particular interest to Jordan, being a doctor. She would need a skill or trade in order to survive in this world and without the technology of modern medicine, she would have to combine her knowledge with the resources that were available to her. Instead of a doctor in the traditional sense, she would become a healer, as Maggie called them. Maggie had come to realize her initial impression of Jordan being foolish and dim-witted, traveling about the wilderness alone, had been unwarranted. Jordan was bright, educated, and quick to learn.

One day, while working in the garden, Maggie noticed Jordan would frequently reach up to touch the pendant around her neck.

"What is that you wear around your neck?"

Jordan took it off and handed it to her. "It is all that is left of my home."

As Maggie inspected it, she noticed the strange language that was engraved on it.

"It is beautiful, but this is not Elvish." She said pointing to the inscription. "What manner of language is this?"

"It is the language of the D'ni." Jordan replied. The two women had developed a certain amount of mutual trust as time had gone on, so Jordan felt safe in divulging a little bit more information. "I am not entirely of the race of men," She said, using the term she had heard Maggie use. "_I_ am half D'ni, an ancient race of people, and I am all that is left of them." She finished sadly.

"Who are the D'ni? I have never heard of them."

"Not many have. They are a people blessed with long life and their culture was one of knowledge, literature, and art; but their greed and desire for power brought about their downfall and they are no more. My true heritage was kept a secret and only revealed to me by my father just before his death."

"Like the men of Numenor; the Dunedain, also blessed with long life!"

One night, as they sat by the fire drinking their tea, Jordan asked Maggie to tell her about the war that happened here. Maggie looked at her strangely.

"How could you not know about the war? Were you hiding under a rock or something?"

Jordan was taken aback. She didn't know how to make up for this lack of knowledge. She thought quickly and came up with: "As I told you, my home is far away. We heard rumors of war but our lands remained untouched."

It wasn't a complete lie, anyway. Maggie seemed satisfied with that answer and proceeded to tell her the story of the war of the ring and of a small hobbit named Frodo, the unlikely hero, who carried the fate of Middle Earth around his neck. Jordan was saddened to learn that even Middle Earth could not go untouched by evil. But yet there was goodness, also, and love. She finally realized that it did matter where you were; there would always be evil, but there would also be good, and all that mattered is what you did with the time you were given. Do you live for good or for evil? That is the question.

Jordan had spent a total of three weeks with Maggie. During this time, she had developed a strong friendship with this woman, as unlikely as it seemed to her when they first met, but the time had come for her to continue her journey.

"You are fully healed now." Maggie said to her over breakfast. There is more for you than what life in this valley can offer you. I think it is time for you to go find it."

"You wish for me to leave?"

"Well, it's not because I don't like ya. It's not fitting for a young woman like you to spend all her time with an old crone like me. Besides you're eating up all my food!" Maggie laughed and Jordan laughed with her, knowing the old woman was just joking. "I see great things for you, Jordan. You have a destiny to fulfill."

"How can you be so sure?"

"Ah, the wise do not give up their secrets!" We will prepare today, and you shall depart tomorrow morn'." Jordan was sad, excited, and scared all at the same time. She was eager to see new places and find new people, but the thought of traveling the long distance she had to go, alone, frightened her; especially with the warning from Maggie about the Gondorian soldiers. How would she be able to defend herself if they attacked her? No, she could not let herself think that way. She would have to be strong and resourceful if she was to survive. She thought about Frodo and the courage it must have taken to complete his task, and he was half her size! She would have to find her courage.

Maggie packed up some food for Jordan to take with her along with a water skin that she could refill, and a packet of the healing herbs she had used on Jordan's wounds. She also gave her an old wool hooded cloak she no longer wore to keep out some of the evening chill. Jordan took the time to bathe in the river, not knowing when she might have the chance again.

That night, they shared their last meal together. It was a rather somber affair. Not a word was spoken. Although she faired better living along, Maggie had grown fond of Jordan and in turn Jordan was saddened to leave the only person in Middle Earth she could consider a friend. But Maggie was right. She couldn't spend the rest of her days in this little cabin. Whether she really did have some destiny to fulfill, she couldn't say, but she would not find it here. So, in the early morning, Jordan said goodbye to Maggie, thanking her for her kindness. They shared a brief hug and Jordan started her journey down the road to Minas Tirith.

Every day she walked along the lonely dirt road, from sunup to sundown, only stopping briefly to get some water or eat a bit. In the evenings, while there was still light, she would record her travels in her journal she brought, if only to keep track of the days. One thing she really missed from home, though, was music. She loved music of all kinds. It reminded her of her mother. Her mother had loved music, too, and was always singing around the house. It was probably why Jordan developed such an appreciation for it. She hadn't bothered to bring her MP3 player because once the batteries died; it would be of no use to her. So, she did the next best thing - she hummed or sang songs to herself to keep her mind off the arduous journey.

The first couple of days went well. The ground was flat and walking was easy. She had yet to encounter another human being and she felt relatively confident in her ability to reach her destination. But inevitably, the long days of walking with a heavy pack and sleeping on the hard ground were beginning to take its toll on her body. She had rationed her food and the little portions she allotted herself weren't really enough to sustain someone at that level of physical activity. She had bruises all over and every muscle in her body ached. She was exhausted much of the time, never achieving restful sleep during the night. She found it hard to fall asleep; feeling every little rock and root through her bedding, and she woke frequently; her sleep disturbed by the sounds of night in the forest.

On and on she walked. Every day felt like a month. Until now, the road had followed the river and was relatively flat and in good repair. By the eighth day, however, the road began to turn away from the river and head into a more mountainous region. The road became increasingly steep and narrow and looked more like a trail at this point; littered with boulders and logs, which made her progress painfully slow. The trees became sparse and the landscape consisted now of mostly dry brush and rocks. She was so tired, she could hardly will her legs to move; they felt so heavy, and her feet were bruised. Because of this, she frequently tripped over rocks or other debris in the road, scraping her knees and elbows. Her dress continuously snagged on low brush or rocks and was now torn in various places and the hem was in tatters. She made sure to fill up the water skin before the road turned away from the river but now she had none left and there was no source of water in sight. She had to stop and rest more frequently throughout the day and she knew by doing so, it would prolong the journey and she would run out of food too soon, but she just couldn't maintain the pace she had set for herself.

Never did she think the journey would prove to be this difficult. Every time she sat down to rest, it got harder and harder to get up again and continue on. Each time it took every ounce of strength to force herself to move. "Oh! I'd give anything to be back at Maggie's cabin." She mourned. Her predicament reminded her of an old gospel song her mother used to sing when she was little. It spoke about trusting in God to give you the strength to keep going even though sometimes it seems impossible. She hadn't prayed in a very long time but she prayed to God for that strength right now - the strength to make it over this mountain and get to Minas Tirith. She sang the song in memory of her mother and her voice rang out clear and echoed across the hills.

(Visit elvenladyofithilien dot com to hear Jordan's song)

When she had finished singing the song, she felt better. Though only for a short while, it felt like her mother was with her; her arms around her, and she found the strength to keep walking. Eventually, the road took a turn and started to head down and back towards the river. Jordan was grateful at first but she soon found out that gravity was working against her as she had to use more of her leg muscles to keep her upright. By day twelve, Jordan ran out of food and that night, for the first time, she laid on the hard ground and cried. 'Where is your courage now?' She laughed bitterly through her tears. She held the pendant containing her mother and father's ashes and cried herself to sleep.

The next day only brought more misery as she lost her footing on a loose rock and was sent tumbling head over heels down hill, resulting in a cut on her cheek and a large gash on her right leg just below her knee. After skidding to a stop, she lay there for a while, dazed. Her pack had dislodged from her back and was sitting uphill a few feet. She crawled over to it and dug out the Neosporin and some bandages. As she had no water, she couldn't wash off her wounds. So, she gently wiped off the dirt caked with blood with one of the bandages. She examined the wound on her leg and determined it would need stitches but there was no chance of that here. She applied a generous amount of the Neosporin and bandaged her leg. The one on her cheek would have to remain uncovered. Afterwards, she collapsed on her back in the prickly grass. Her leg throbbed terribly. She remained motionless for awhile but her anger and frustration were too much and she beat the ground with her arms and legs and screamed: "I hate this place!" Her outburst expended a great deal of energy and she was out of breath and panting, but at this point, she no longer cared. "A month ago, I was living in a nice apartment with air conditioning and I had a car! Now I am going to DIE on the side of the road in this GOD FORSAKEN PLACE!" She screamed the last part of the sentence and then broke into hysterical laughter. She was delirious. Her laughter quickly dissolved to tears and she rolled over on her side and wept.

Meanwhile in Emyn Arnen, Legolas studied his designs for Prince Faramir and his wife, Eowyn's palace gardens. Everything was in place. They would commence excavation for the outer wall tomorrow. Something was amiss. He felt restless; he couldn't concentrate. It was unlike him. He sought out his trusted friend and coordinator of the garden project, Cailethas.

"Something stirs in the South wood; I have sensed it." Legolas confided to him.

"I have sensed nothing of late. Haradrim perhaps?"

"I am uncertain."

"The Gondorian army patrols the southern border. I am sure they would be sentient to an impending attack."

"I am aware of this fact, Cailethas." Legolas said crossly. "Nonetheless, I am planning a scouting mission to seek out this disturbance."

"Legolas, I must protest. This is highly unusual. The groundbreaking for the garden starts tomorrow. Then, there is the celebration. King Elessar and Queen Arwen will be in attendance. You mean not to be here?"

"I am sorry. I cannot explain further, for I have not the answers."

"There is no one that can be spared for a scouting party. All are needed here or we will fall behind schedule."

"Then you will be pleased to know that none are required, as I shall go alone. I leave immediately and will return two days hence."

"Do you know which route you will be taking yet?

"I will concentrate my patrols in the area between the Harad Road and the Old River Road. Please convey my deepest apology to Faramir for my absence."

Cailethas sighed. "It will be done." He said reluctantly. Legolas placed his hand over his heart and bowed in thanks and left swiftly. He quickly gathered what he needed from his guest quarters and set out on horseback towards the Anduin River.

Jordan awoke sometime in the night. She had passed out in the place where she lay in the grass. She unrolled her bedding and feebly crawled into it, wincing at the pain in her leg. As she laid on her back looking up at the sky, she noticed the stars were out and she watched them for some time. Her thoughts drifted toward her father and she called out to him, "Daddy, help me, please!" Tears ran down the sides of her head and over her ears. When she fell asleep again, she dreamt of him. She was at the hospital again and she heard him saying "There is nothing here for you now. Your heart knows what it wants, have the courage to follow it." Then he was gone and all she saw was darkness. "No! Daddy, come back!"

Jordan woke up to the bright morning sunlight shining through her eyelids. She was weak but she was still alive. She blinked a few times, squinting her eyes against the sun, and managed to sit up. Her throat was parched and her stomach cramped from the lack of food. She crawled out of her bedding gritting her teeth against the pain in her leg. Instinct kicked in. She had to keep moving. She was not going to give up. By shear will alone, was she able to roll her bedding up and shove it into her rucksack. She managed to struggle to her feet and get it on her back. Walking was a different matter. She found she couldn't put much pressure on her right leg causing her to limp. She looked around for a branch of some sort that she could lean on, but found none. As she proceeded down the sloping road, she took it one step at a time, carefully choosing the placement of each foot, so as not to loose her balance. She had to rest frequently, but eventually made it to where the road leveled out again, and walking was a little easier.

Legolas traveled south along the Anduin on the Old River Road for several leagues before cutting east into the forest. He regretted not being present for the groundbreaking and missing an opportunity to see his good friend Aragorn and the Lady Arwen but whatever it was that he was sensing, he felt responsible to investigate. If there was a chance he could avert some disaster, he would do it, even if it meant he had to sacrifice.

Jordan noticed that trees began to dot the landscape again. All the while she walked, she looked for berries or something of an edible nature but there were nothing of the sort. The trees became denser and eventually she was in a forested area again which provided some relief from the hot sun. She managed to find a dead branch that could serve as a cane. Unsheathing her dagger, she used it to slice off all of the smaller limbs until it was just a smooth stick. It was not ideal but it helped to alleviate some of the pressure on her injured leg. After several hours, just up ahead, she spied a wooden bridge. Her heart leapt for joy. If there was a bridge, that meant water!

She hobbled as quickly as she could to the bridge, but once she got there, her spirits sank. What used to be a small creek was now dried up. Defeated, she sat down on its banks, put her head in her hands, and wept. When she could cry no more, she raised her head and looked around. Downstream a ways in a deeper part of the rocky creek bed, she spotted a glimmer of hope for survival - a small pool of water that had yet to evaporate. She thought at first it was a trick of the light. She shrugged her rucksack off her back and struggled to her feet with the aid of her stick. As she got closer, she saw it was indeed a small puddle of water. Some luck at last! She crawled down into the creek bed and drank greedily with not even a thought that it might harbor bacteria and she could get sick. She choked on it because her throat was so dry and she coughed and sputtered but she drank more.

After she had drank her fill, she rested her head at the edge of the puddle and slept, not caring that she lay on hard rocks. When Jordan awoke, the sun was high and she guessed it was about mid to late afternoon. She took another drink from the puddle and then filled her water skin with it. She had to keep moving. She had to find something to eat. Climbing out of the creek bed, she gathered her belongings, and started down the road again.

Several miles away, Legolas continued to patrol the forest for a sign of anything untoward. He was utterly confused. The woods were peaceful and the trees sang to him. He felt no presence; no eminent danger. He had never been wrong before.

Further on down the road, Jordan saw what looked like a clearing. As she got closer, she could see several old wooden buildings at the far end of it. She began to get nervous. Could this be one of the outposts that Maggie told her about? She got off the road and crept from tree to tree, using them to shield herself from view. Once she had a good vantage point, she crouched behind a tree, and studied the layout. She could see men dressed in chain mail and armor milling around. To one side of the buildings, she saw a length of fence with five or six horses tied to it. She was too frightened to approach the soldiers and ask them for help after Maggie's warning, and there was no way around without being seen.

She knew she would not last much longer without food. If she could just get to one of the horses without being noticed, she might make it to Osgilliath. Her legs were cramping in this position and her head was swimming from the pain, but she didn't dare move and give away her position. All she could do was watch and wait. Finally, a small window of opportunity opened up when the group of soldiers went inside one of the buildings. If there was ever a moment in her life when she needed courage it was now! Walking as quickly and as quietly as she could to one of the horses, she swiftly untied the rope and led it away from the fence. Using every last ounce of strength she had, she managed to get her foot in the stirrup and hoisted herself up on to the horse.

Just then, one of the soldiers spotted her as he came around the corner of the building. "You! Stop right there!" He yelled at her. Jordan panicked. Instead of stopping, she dug her heels into the horse's flanks and galloped hard down the road.

"Stop!" He yelled again. The rest of the soldiers came running out, swords drawn, when they heard the commotion.

Jordan glanced back to see two men on horses coming up on her fast. She was not an experience rider and she was weak and unsteady. The men quickly caught up to her.

Legolas rode leisurely through the trees on the outskirts of a large clearing. He had just made the decision to abort his scouting mission and return to Emyn Arnen when he heard the pounding of horses' hooves in the distance. By the sound, he judged they were just beyond the clearing and coming up quickly. He dismounted and placed himself in a strategic location. Nocking an arrow, he waited; for he knew not if they were friend or foe. When they came into sight, Legolas saw a woman riding one of the horses and two men riding after her.

One of the men maneuvered his horse along side hers and swung his arm out catching her directly in the face; effectively knocking her off the horse. Jordan saw white light along with a burning explosion of pain. She hit the ground hard, landing on her back. She laid there half unconscious and only barely breathing. The soldiers brought the riderless horse to a stop, dismounted, and were approaching her with their swords drawn. She brought her hands to touch her face and inspect the damage; her nose was bleeding freely and her bottom lip was split. She let her hands fall away from her face limply and tried to curl up into the fetal position to protect herself but couldn't quite make it on to her side. One of the men rolled her back over face up with his boot and put his foot on her stomach forcing her to stay on the ground and held the tip of his sword to her throat.

Legolas watched the whole scene unfold and couldn't believe his eyes. What reason would these men have to treat this woman so brutally? He couldn't stand back and allow this to happen. He had to take action. With stealth and lightning quickness, Legolas was behind them and had his bow trained on the man standing over Jordan.

"Move away from her, now!" He said with authority. The men whipped around to face Legolas with their swords drawn.

"Stand down, elf! Who are you to say what we do with our own prisoner?"

"I am Legolas, Prince of Mirkwood; Lord of the Elves of Ithilien. You WILL step away from her!" He said, hoping his title would bear some weight with them.

"If you are of Ithilien, then you should know that it is under the rule of Prince _Faramir_." He stressed. "You have no jurisdiction here, elf. She is a criminal and we are doing our duty to the realm. It would not be wise to hinder us!" The man said angrily. Jordan vaguely heard voices arguing and something about a prince.

"And what manner of crime has this woman committed?" Legolas asked sarcastically.

"She has stolen that horse you see there!" He said, pointing to the horses. "Now you will kindly step aside, so we can be on our way!"

He took a step toward Legolas menacingly. Legolas lowered his bow, walked over to the woman, and knelt down beside her. Her eyes were closed and her face was bruised and swollen. Blood was seeping from her nose and lip, mixing in with the smudges of dirt. There was an older, healing cut on her cheek. Her hair was a tangled mess and her dress was torn and filthy. He put his hand on her arm to comfort her, and she jerked.

"I will not hurt you." Legolas said gently. "What is your name?" Jordan's eyes fluttered and slowly opened at the sound of a kind voice.

She managed to say, in a hoarse whisper, "Jordan."

"I am Legolas. Do not fear, my lady. I am here to help you."

She made a concerted effort to focus on the face of the person speaking to her. She could see he had long blond hair, part of which was in braids, blue or grey eyes, and…Jordan gasped…pointy ears! Her eyes widened.

"You're an elf!" She croaked and promptly passed out.

51


	9. Darkness Falls

Disclaimer: All characters and places mentioned are the sole property of Cyan, Inc., J.R.R. Tolkien, or Peter Jackson/New Line Cinema. This is strictly for entertainment purposes and not based on fact. I do not profit from this story in any way.

**Chapter 7 - Darkness Falls**

Legolas stood up and looked at the men scornfully.

"She is gravely injured! She needs a healer."

"I do not see any healers about, do you? You are wasting my time!"

Legolas knew he had no authority over these men, but he had to find someway to help her. She was in a terrible state. If she _had_ stolen the horse, it was certainly out of desperation and did not warrant such treatment.

"What do you mean to do with your 'prisoner'?" Legolas asked.

"She is to be taken to Emyn Arnen and put in the dungeon to await judgment…_if _she makes it, that is." He said coldly.

Legolas did not like the sound of that. "Who is your captain?"

"Beregond, _not_ that it is any of your concern."

'So, they are under Faramir's command. This could be to some advantage.' Legolas thought. "Prince Faramir is a friend of mine. If you would allow me to accompany you to Emyn Arnen, I wish to take this matter up with him."

"Do as you like, elf, but should you try to thwart us or help her escape, we will kill you both."

"May I have your name?"

"I am Cirion; this is Ereganth." He said pointing to the other man.

"Cirion, I give you my word."

Cirion, who was clearly the ranking officer, ordered Ereganth to ready the horses.

"We leave immediately." He told him.

Legolas sprinted off into the trees to retrieve his own. When he returned, they had already taken Jordan and were heading down the road. As Legolas rode to catch up, he noticed they had left her pack lying on the ground where she fell. He stopped to recover it before continuing on. Jordan rode in front of Cirion, her slumped and unconscious form supported by one of his arms as he held the reigns with the other. Once Legolas had caught up to them, he maintained his pace alongside Jordan to monitor her condition.

They rode hard down the Old River Road towards Emyn Arnen, every stride jarring Jordan's already battered body. She regained consciousness just long enough to realize she was astride a horse and the kind elf who tried to help her was riding beside her. Once the sun had set, Cirion declared they would stop for the night and set up camp just off the road.

"Cirion, it is imperative that we continue to Emyn Arnen. There is no time to delay." Legolas pressed him.

"Stay or go as you please, but our horses are weary and there is a new moon tonight. We will rest here; as will our captive." He said irritatedly as he dismounted, taking Jordan with him and depositing her roughly on the ground.

Legolas outwardly maintained his reserved elven composure, but inside he was seething with anger. He wished to be rid of these men and quickly! Through gritted teeth, he said, "I stay."

"Fine. You would do well to remember my warning, elf." He said, refusing to call him by his name. "I trust you will not do anything foolish." Cirion and Ereganth were not prepared for a night in the wilderness and had no provisions for setting up camp. They were close enough to the river, however, where they could get water to drink and wash up. With no tents or bedding, they would be sleeping on the bare ground, so they gathered wood for a fire.

Legolas had planned carefully for his scouting mission and had all that he needed. Noticing the men's plight, he was smugly satisfied. Legolas knelt beside Jordan and tried to rouse her to sip some water.

Touching her arm, he called to her, "Lady Jordan?" She did not respond. He shook her very gently and said, "Lady Jordan, you must open your eyes. You need to drink this." He brushed the stray hairs away from her face.

Slowly she began to come around. '_Lady_ Jordan? Where am I? Oh, it's that elf.'

"You're still here." She whispered.

He smiled. "Yes. I am still here. Let me help you sit up against this tree." Jordan winced in pain as Legolas tried to move her but he eventually maneuvered her to where she was resting as comfortably as possible against the tree trunk. He gave her a small sip of water from his water skin. Then, ripping a piece of fabric from his tunic, he dampened it and proceeded to gently wipe the dried blood and dirt from her face. "Will you be all right here?"

"Yes. Where are you taking me?"

"These men are taking you to Emyn Arnen to answer for stealing their horse."

Jordan immediately became angry. "I went for days without food or water! I needed…Oh!" She scrunched her face up in pain and her breathing became rapid and shallow.

"Please, do not excite yourself, my lady. All will be well. Prince Faramir is a friend of mine and a good man. I will talk to him on your behalf."

"So, you are not with them?" Jordan said and then let out a strangled cry of pain as she shifted position slightly.

"No. What pains you my lady?"

"My ribs are broken and every movement, even breathing, is excruciating."

"How do you know this?"

"I am a doc…um, a healer."

"A healer?" He said, surprised. "Do you have any of your medicines with you? You could instruct me on how to use them."

"No, I don't." She said mournfully.

"I have some dried fruit; do you feel well enough to eat?"

"Oh, please. I am so hungry."

Legolas ran to get the small bundle of dried fruit from his pack. Legolas waited patiently while she nibbled on the fruit. When she was done, he gave her another sip of water.

"Why did you seem surprised to see an elf?"

"Because I have never seen one before."

"You have never seen an elf?" He asked incredulously.

"No. I have only read about your kind."

"Forgive me if I frightened you, then."

"It's all right."

There were so many questions he wished to ask her like where she came from and why she was in the forest alone with no food or water, but he could tell that speaking was very trying and she needed to rest.

The men returned with each an armload of wood, dumping it on the ground. Noticing their close proximity, Cirion intervened; unsheathing his sword and pointing it at Legolas.

"All right. That's enough out of you. Get back." He said, motioning with his sword to move away.

"Please, allow me to at least set up a place for her to rest."

Cirion huffed. 'This nosy elf will not give up!' He thought. Sheathing his sword, he said, "Go! Do it then!"

Legolas retrieved her pack from his horse and returned to the tree where she was leaning.

He whispered, "I recovered your belongings. I will lay out your bedding by the fire, so you can sleep."

While Cirion and Ereganth scratched out a pit with sticks and started a fire, Legolas helped Jordan to get under the blankets and gave her his folded up cloak as a pillow. "Rest my lady. I will be right here to watch over you."

Upon hearing this, Cirion said to Ereganth, "I will take the first watch."

While Jordan slept, she dreamt she was lost in a forest. The trees were close-in and the ground covered with thick underbrush. The forest was shrouded in dense fog making it impossible to see. Someone was chasing her. She could not see who and they never did catch her; but she had to run, and yet she couldn't run. It was like time was in slow motion and she countlessly tripped over brush and logs. She kept running and running, searching for a way out of the forest but the scenery always stayed the same. As she stumbled and tripped and tried to run, for some reason, as dreams can be peculiar, she remembered an old poem she had read in school when she was young. Although, she could only remember a part of it, she could hear it repeating in her head:

A terrible tale that shall be told

Of ill-fated lovers who lost their way

In Mallowthorn woods where the wind blows cold

Through shadowed mists of twilight gray…

Take heed of which has been foretold

Lest the same end you will see

In Mallowthorn woods where the wind blows cold

A ghostly shadow you shall be

For when the mists take icy hold

Ne'er the way home you shall you recall

In Mallowthorn woods where the wind blows cold

When day is done and darkness falls.

Legolas sat reclining against a tree just out of reach of the fire's flickering light. Cirion, who had previously been standing on the opposite side of the fire against a tree keeping watch, was now slumped at its base, snoring. Legolas shook his head and sighed. The stars shone brightly through the tree branches and the sounds of crickets and the faint rushing of the river could be heard. In any other circumstance, the night would have been peaceful and calming, but instead Legolas felt frustration and an underlying sense of urgency.

Just before the darkened skies gave way to morning light, Legolas heard Jordan moaning in her sleep. He silently moved over to where she slept to check on her. Perspiration beaded on her forehead and dampened her hair. She was tossing her head from side to side, letting out an occasional whimpering sound. He touched the palm of his hand to her forehead; she was burning up. He did not have the knowledge of a healer to understand what was wrong but he knew enough to realize her condition had worsened. He soaked a piece of soft cloth with water and gently dabbed her forehead with it. It seemed to calm her a bit but she did not awaken.

"Lady Jordan?" He whispered; then louder, "Lady Jordan!" As he knelt over her, his long hair fell forward and swept across her face. She did not move to brush it away or respond to his voice.

Legolas made a split-second decision to take her and depart for Emyn Arnen. He would deal with the consequences later. He worked quickly and quietly to gather up his gear and ready his horse. The men remained asleep but Legolas' movements disturbed their horses and they began to whiney and stomp at the ground. This commotion did wake Ereganth and he jumped to his feet ready for action before he even knew what the matter was. He saw Legolas' horse near the woman and Legolas about to carry her off.

"Just where do you think you're off to?" Ereganth said as he eyed the ground trying to find where he last left his sword.

"I am taking her to a healer. Your delay has been most costly. She is near death." Ereganth finally located his sword that was partially concealed by his cloak on the ground, and raised it towards Legolas.

"You will do no such thing." Said a menacing voice from behind Ereganth. This time, it was Cirion who spoke, already standing with sword in hand. "If she is on death's doorstep, then let her pass through! Then we shall be done with this business and can return to our post."

"What manner of a man are you that you would leave a suffering woman to die? Have you no decency?"

"Listen to me. I am a soldier. It is my duty to protect the borders of Gondor, not coddle to some ill woman."

"Is it not also your duty to bring rebels to justice? For that is what she is to you! Then I say to you, as a soldier of Gondor; do your duty and take her to Emyn Arnen!" Legolas said caustically.

"I know my duties, elf," he growled, "and I will do them at my own bidding!"

Legolas sat with Jordan and waited while Cirion and Ereganth gathered their effects and prepared for the day's ride. Without a word, Cirion walked over to where Jordan lay, picked her up, and unceremoniously tossed her up onto his horse. It was enough to bring her to consciousness and she opened her mouth to cry out in pain but not a sound was ushered from her lips.

By that afternoon, they finally reached the gate of the outer palace wall at Emyn Arnen. The guards on watch recognized two of the three riders to be Gondorian soldiers and promptly opened the gate to let them through. Legolas and Ereganth both dismounted and handed their horses off to one of the guards to be stabled. Cirion, however, remained mounted on his horse with Jordan slumped in front of him and waited for the guards to approach him.

"I am Naren." One of them said bowing. "How may I be of service to you, my lord?"

"This woman is a thief. We caught her stealing one of our horses. Take her to the dungeon. Fear not! She will not be any trouble." He said with a laugh as he lower her into the arms of two armed guards. Legolas moved in to stand beside Cirion's horse near Jordan. He knew they were going to imprison her. There was nothing he could do about that, but he wanted to make sure she was not hurt in the process. Then he would talk to Faramir.

He stepped closer to Jordan and said, "I must leave you, but do not fear my lady, I go to seek an audience with Faramir to see about your release."

Cirion did not wish for Faramir to hear the elf's side of the story. There was one way to accomplish that. Cirion pointed in Legolas' direction. "Seize the elf as well."

"The elf, my lord? What is his charge?"

"Obstructing the duties of a soldier of Gondor."

Two of the guards flanked Legolas, grabbing him by the arms, and drug him away along with Jordan towards a group of stone outbuildings that housed the dungeon. He struggled with them but their grip held fast.

"Cirion!" He screamed as they hauled him away still trying to wrestle out of the iron grasp of the guards.

"Take me to Beregond. I must speak with him straight away." Cirion ordered.

"Release me, now! Legolas yelled furiously at his captors. "Cirion lies! I have committed no such offense! You must let me speak to Faramir!" Nevertheless, his words fell on deaf ears. As they descended the long, dim stairwell to the dungeon, Legolas was finally able to wrench his arm out of the grip of the guard and elbowed him in the face. The other, he kicked in the stomach and as he bent over clutching his midsection in pain, Legolas delivered a blow to his head, knocking him out.

"My lady!" He shouted back as he quickly ran up the steps. "Do not be afraid. I will come back for you!" He had exited the building and was gone before the other guards even realized what had happened.

Faramir, Prince of Ithilien, sat on his throne at the end of the Great Hall engaged in conversation with two guards. Beregond, Captain of Faramir's army and personal guard strode in and stood behind the guards awaiting Faramir to address him. He gave Beregond a nod of his head to acknowledge him and said to the guards, "Leave us."

"Yes, my lord." They replied and quickly left the Great Hall.

"My Lord Faramir." Beregond said, bowing deeply.

"Beregond."

"Two men from the Southern border just brought in a woman they caught stealing one of their horses; and an elf they say tried to help the woman escape their custody. They are both being held in the dungeon now. I wish to know what you would like me to do with them."

"A woman you say? That is unusual. From what realm does she come?"

"I know not. She has not spoken; she is injured. Her manner of dress is strange."

"Tend to her injuries. When she is well, administer the customary punishment. Then, take her back to where she came from. Now, what of this elf? What is his name?"

"I was not given that information, my lord; I was only given a description of his appearance."

Beregond was just about to continue when Legolas burst into the hall, pushing past the guards trying to prevent this sudden intrusion.

"Faramir, I must speak with you at once."

"_That_ is the elf! He has escaped. Seize him!" Beregond commanded.

"Legolas? _This_ is who you say tried to help a prisoner escape? I do not believe it! Release him."

"My lord!" Beregond protested.

"Release him!" Faramir repeated. They let Legolas go and he rushed to stand before Faramir's throne.

"Legolas. Do you care to explain the meaning of all of this?"

"Faramir, I give you my word, I did not do as they say."

"I will…" Faramir started but Legolas cut him off. "Forgive me for my bluntness, Faramir, but this is a matter of urgency. I did not come to speak with you regarding my innocence but of a woman your men have imprisoned in the dungeon."

"Ah, yes. The mysterious woman, again. It seems you are not the only one with something to say about her. Beregond here has already spoken to me of her capture. What is this urgency?"

"She calls herself Jordan. She is severely injured and was ill-treated by Beregond's men. I accompanied them to ensure that no further harm came to her. She needs to be taken to a healer in all haste."

"I understand your concern, but there is no cause for alarm. I am aware of her injuries, Legolas. I have advised Beregond to see that they are taken care of. I was not informed, however, that she was mistreated by the men. What of this, Beregond?"

Eowyn was making her way down one of the corridors to the Great Hall when she heard raised voices. She stopped just short of the hall and stood in the shadows, listening intently.

"I was told that she appeared to be an inexperienced rider and that her injuries were due to a fall from the horse, my lord. The woman has not spoken to accuse her captors of any abuse." Beregond explained.

"That is because she is terrified of them. I could see it in her eyes!" Legolas shot back. "What do you intend to do with her?" He pressed Faramir.

"She will be punished and sent back to whence she came."

"I would ask that she be placed in _my_ charge, so I can see to her injuries."

"Legolas you know I cannot do that. She will have to pay the penalty for her offense."

"And just what _is_ that penalty?"

"Twenty lashes."

"Faramir, you must reconsider. She would never survive." Legolas pleaded with him.

"Legolas, I am sorry. This deed cannot go unpunished. I cannot allow a man _or _a woman to enter our land and break the laws without consequence. The people need to see that this behavior will not be tolerated; they need assurance that they will be protected."

"So you would make an example out of her!" Legolas snapped angrily.

"I am simply upholding the law as is my duty."

"Then let me take it in her stead."

"I am sorry. I cannot. The people would never accept it."

Eowyn was furious with her husband. She could not stand to hear anymore and hurried to Faramir's side.

"Faramir! What is this? Am I to understand you are in favor of having this woman whipped? It is cruel and unjust! You cannot do such a thing!"

"Excuse me for a moment while I take my leave." Faramir said calmly to Beregond and Legolas.

Grabbing Eowyn's arm, he led her out of the hall into his private chambers. Pushing her inside, he shut the heavy door behind them.

"Eowyn! You know I hold your wisdom in the highest regard but do not EVER question me in front of my men. If you have something you wish to say to me, I would have you call me away and reveal it in private. Is that understood?"

Eowyn was undaunted. "I am not one of your men you can order about! Faramir, you cannot do this. It is wrong! You heard Legolas, did you not? He said she was injured."

Faramir sighed. He knew how Eowyn could be when she was in a fiery mood. He would likely be sleeping in the study tonight regardless of the outcome of this situation.

"If it pleases you, my love, I will see her myself and hear her story before I rule on this matter."

"It pleases me, Faramir." She said retorted sarcastically and stormed out the doors and down the hall.

Faramir returned to the Great Hall and once again took his seat on the throne.

"Such an uproar over one woman." He groaned rubbing his temples with his fingers. "Beregond, have your men retrieve this woman from the dungeon and bring her to me."

Beregond left briefly to carry out his orders and returned swiftly. There was an awkward silence as they waited for Jordan to be brought in. Legolas stood staring anxiously at the doors; Faramir contemplated his predicament with Eowyn. After what seemed like hours, the doors were opened and Jordan was drug in by two men, one on each arm holding her up. They gave her a little push and she fell to her knees at Faramir's feet and yelped in pain. Legolas rushed to her side. Faramir let out an audible gasp in shock at her condition. He knew she was injured and he knew that prisoners were typically treated roughly, but they were usually strong men who were often combative. Nothing had prepared him for the sight before his eyes. She was barely hanging on to consciousness. Her dress was ripped to shreds and she was filthy. Trickles of blood were oozing from her nose and split lip again. Dirt mingled with sweat on her skin, and her eyes, when open, were glassy and despondent like she suffered the effects of a fever. Anger boiled in Faramir's blood and he was at a loss for words.

"Legolas, I…I am sorry. I did not know." Finally collecting his wits, he said "Take the woman and find Eowyn; I'm sure she is not far. She will know what to do." Relief washed over Legolas as he gently gathered her in his arms. He was finally free to get her wounds treated properly by a healer without the soldiers interfering.

Turning to Beregond, he said furiously "Beregond, this is unacceptable! Is this how your men are trained - with complete disregard for humanity?"

"No, my lord. Forgive me. This is not our way. I will see to it personally…"

Faramir interrupted, "No, Beregond. The men responsible will suffer _my_ wrath. Perhaps _they_ should like to see the inside of a dungeon! If, after a time I am feeling particularly merciful, I will see to it that they are reassigned to a very long engagement…on the desolate border of Mordor!"

Jordan groaned in pain as Legolas carried her swiftly down the corridor. He spotted Eowyn at the end and called for her. Eowyn ran towards them but stopped in her tracks at the site of the woman Legolas held. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath to subdue her anger.

"This way. Come quickly."

Together they rushed down the corridors. He knew every step he took was causing her pain.

"I am sorry, my lady. You must be brave just a few minutes more."

Eowyn led Legolas to an empty room and flung the door open. Once inside, Legolas gently laid Jordan on the bed.

"I will go fetch the healer." Eowyn ran out the door and down the corridor towards the healer's quarters.

Legolas sat on the edge of the bed beside Jordan and held her hand in his, stroking it with the other. As he looked down at her, he was a mix of emotions. He didn't know her at all, but his heart ached for her in this current state. The last few days, all he could think about was helping her but he couldn't understand why it was so important to him. He spoke soothing words in his native tongue as he held her hand.

Jordan opened her eyes at the sound of this and said in a hoarse whisper, "What language are you speaking?"

He smiled and said gently, "It is the language of the Elves, my lady."

"It's beautiful."

"Rest now. The healer will be here soon."

"Thank you."

Eowyn finally arrived with the healer. Legolas stood up and stepped out of the way, so the healer could examine Jordan.

"Legolas, this is Ioreth." Eowyn said. Legolas nodded

"Who is she?" Ioreth asked.

"She said her name was Jordan." Legolas answered.

"What happened to her?" Ioreth asked as she began to look Jordan over. Legolas moved in behind her and peered over her shoulder.

"She was struck in the face and fell from the horse she was riding. I think she has been without food or water for quite some time. She said she was a healer as well. She spoke of suffering injury to her ribs; probably from the fall. As to the nature of her other injuries, I do not know." Legolas informed her. Eowyn stood quietly to the side listening and observing.

"Did the men…_touch _her?"

Legolas paused, unsure what Ioreth was asking.

"Did they defile her?" She rephrased.

"No! I was with her through the entire ordeal except for the short time she spent in the dungeon."

"Dungeon?" She exclaimed in shock.

He groaned, "Although I do not know what befell her prior to the men capturing her." The very thought sickened him.

"I will have to check her to be sure."

Ioreth took a piece of cloth and a small bottle of liquid out of a pouch slung over her shoulder. Pouring a bit of the liquid onto the cloth, she proceeded to dab the cuts on her cheek and lip and wipe off the blood. The strong smell of the liquid brought Jordan out of her sleep. She smelled something akin to rubbing alcohol and felt someone touching her face. She opened her eyes and saw a strange woman sitting next to her where Legolas had been and she started to panic.

"Legolas?"

"I am here." He said and reached out to touch her arm. "This is Ioreth. She is a healer. She will take care of you."

"I am a doc- a healer, too. I am sure I have broken at least two of my ribs. It hurts to breathe." Jordan said in a strained voice.

Ioreth examined the various cuts and bruises that were not covered by her tattered dress. "How did you get these?"

"I fell down a hill." Her breathing was becoming labored from the exertion of talking. "I…I'm so cold."

Ioreth felt her forehead. "You are ill with fever. Some of your wounds may be afflicted. Legolas, you must wait outside. I need to examine Jordan further."

Legolas sighed and reluctantly left the room, closing the door behind him.

"Eowyn, will you assist me in removing her dress?" There was no way to take the dress off Jordan without moving her too much, so Ioreth sliced the material down the entire length with a dagger.

"No, don't" Jordan whispered and clutched at the dress.

"I am sorry. There is no time for propriety. I need to examine you further to find the source of infection. "Very gently roll her over on her side, Eowyn, and I will pull the material out from under her. Jordan groaned as Eowyn did so. As soon as Eowyn let her back down, Ioreth saw the cause of Jordan's affliction - the large gash just below her knee. It had become infected and her entire upper leg was an angry red and severely swollen. Eowyn covered her mouth with her hand.

"Cover her up with a blanket. I will need more supplies." Opening the door, she saw Legolas sitting on the floor with his back up against the opposite wall of corridor. "Start a fire." She said and rushed past him. Entering the room, he saw the grave look upon Eowyn's face.

"What is it?"

She moved the blanket just enough so Legolas could see the infected wound on her leg. He closed his eyes and hung his head. "I have failed her."

"Now is not the time for despair;" Eowyn said putting a hand on his shoulder, "Ioreth is a skilled healer. Start the fire." Legolas did as instructed.

Ioreth returned carrying a satchel and a large flagon of water. Legolas and Eowyn watched as she worked quickly, taking a long length of cloth, some containers of herbs, a bottle containing some unknown liquid, and a large knife from the satchel and laying them out on the side table.

"Legolas, outside!" Ioreth shooed him away. "I will come get you when I need you."

"Eowyn, help me sit her up, I need to bind her ribs with this cloth. Here, prop her up on these pillows."

After wrapping the cloth around Jordan's chest to support her broken ribs and tying it off, Ioreth cut the excess cloth off with the knife and then put the knife in the fire.

"Why are you doing that?" Eowyn asked.

"I need to cauterize the wound to stop in the infection. Cover her back up with the blanket but leave her leg exposed. Legolas!" She called out. "Come back in now. Pull that chair over and sit by her head." Ioreth took a small paper envelope and dumped a powdery substance into a cup and mixed it with water. She handed it to Legolas. "You must force her to drink this."

"What is it?"

"It will help with the pain and make her sleep."

Legolas shook Jordan gently. "Jordan, you must drink this." She opened her eyes and he supported her head with one hand and held the cup to her lips with the other. She took a sip but immediately coughed and gagged. He waited and held the cup to her lips again. She shook her head no. "Jordan, Ioreth said you need to drink all of this." Her eyes pleaded with him. "Drink, my lady." Reluctantly, she managed to choke down the entire cup of bitter liquid. Eowyn stood next to Legolas with a sickened look on her face while Ioreth pulled the knife out of the fire to inspect it. She spit on it and nothing happened. "Bah." She muttered and put the knife back into the fire. Legolas looked up at Eowyn. "What is she going to do with that?" Then to Ioreth - "What are you going to do with that?"

"I need to cauterize the wound. It is the only way to stop the infection."

Jordan looked wide-eyed at Legolas as she realized just what Ioreth was going to do.

"No! You mustn't." Legolas protested, looking at Ioreth and back to Jordan.

Jordan attempted a last-ditch effort even though she was pretty sure she already knew the answer.

"Do you have any antibiotics?" She whispered.

Legolas looked puzzled and Ioreth said, "What are 'antibiotics'?"

Jordan closed her eyes and groaned. She had her answer.

"Legolas give me your belt."

He took it off and handed it to Ioreth. She held it up to Jordan's face. "Bite down on this."

"Ioreth, no. It will kill her." Legolas pleaded.

"If I do _not_, she will die. It is the only way." Ioreth said.

As Jordan bit down on the soft leather, a single tear ran down her cheek. She looked at Legolas and nodded in agreement.

"Legolas hold her hand tightly." He scooted the chair as close as he could and held her hand tightly with both hands, pulling it into his chest. "Eowyn, come 'round here and steady her leg." Eowyn walked to the foot of the bed and did as Ioreth requested. Ioreth took the bottle of clear liquid and poured it over Jordan's leg.

"Jordan, look at me. Do not look down. Focus on my eyes." Legolas told her.

Ioreth took the knife out of the fire. It was glowing red. "Jordan, keep looking at me. Do not look away."

Jordan began breathing rapidly out of fear for she knew terrible pain was about to be inflicted on her, but she did not break eye contact with Legolas. Ioreth sunk the searing knife into Jordan's flesh, and even biting on the leather, her long, agonizing scream could be heard echoing throughout the palace. Legolas faded from her sight and all she saw was darkness…

"Good. She's out." Ioreth promptly made a paste mixing some of her herbs with water. Legolas still clung to Jordan's hand as Ioreth applied the paste to her wounds and bandaged them with the remaining pieces of cloth. Eowyn looked away and quickly wiped away a tear that threatened to fall. After finishing her work, she collected all of her supplies and put them back in the satchel. "The first two days are the most telling. At best, she will recover; although her leg will burden her for many a year and she may require assistance with walking. But if the fever does not break within this time, then there is…" she paused, "nothing more I can do for her. She will need constant care but I do not want to risk moving her to the healing wing. One of you will need to look after her, as there are others ill and injured that I must tend to and I may not be able to come here often."

"I will do it." Legolas said. She handed him several paper envelopes containing the powdery substance.

"Mix the contents of the envelope and heated water in a cup. Every time she wakes up make her drink it. She must drink the entire amount. It contains nutrients to strengthen her blood and something to make her sleep. Also apply a cool, damp cloth to her forehead as often as you can. I will check on her when I am able; to assess her condition and change the bandages. You should go and rest now. There is nothing more you can do for the moment. I will send for you when you are needed."

"No. I do not require rest. I want to stay."

"Then do not rest, but you need to leave this room. I need to bathe her and get her into a sleeping gown and I doubt the lady would appreciate a male being present during this."

"Oh." He said flatly. "In that case, I shall be in my quarters."

Just before he walked through the door, Eowyn called out to him, "Legolas." He stopped and turned around.

"Yes?"

"What you did was very noble."

He nodded and left closing the door behind him.

Back in his guest quarters, Legolas lay on the bed staring at the ceiling; arms folded behind his head. He had hardly a moments rest in the last few days but sleep would not come. A million thoughts raced through his head; lingering for a moment, only to be replaced by another. The life of a warrior was the path he had chosen. For millennia he had honed his craft; fought and won many battles. When he grew weary of battle, he would sail to Valinor - the undying lands - but the War of the Ring changed all of that. It changed _him_. The time of the elves was over.

He thought of the new friends he had made during the long journey of the Fellowship; the comradery they shared. How do you go back to the life you once lived? He thought of Aragorn and Arwen, so blissful in their new life together. He missed his friends and he felt the weight of loneliness upon him. There were no great deeds to be done; no battle to be fought; no triumphant defeat of evil for the greater good. He had gathered the elves who still remained in Middle Earth, settled a new colony, and filled his time with restoration and renewal, but to what purpose? So that he may linger and watch as the shadows grow long on the lives of his beloved mortal companions, until each and every one has passed on, and all that they have toiled for has crumbled to dust? He sighed. 'Alas, the call of the sea weighs heavy on my heart. I would but leave these shores, but a vow have I made and it shall not be unmade.'

His thoughts turned to the past few days. He had definitely sensed a presence; a strange disturbance in the woods, but the feeling was no more. He did not possess the gift of foresight but his keen senses were always perceptive to the threat of evil. Perhaps it was, then, that this was not a threat made by any foe. Perhaps, it was this strange woman, Jordan. Was she the cause of the disturbance? Could it be that she somehow possessed the ability of mindspeech and was reaching out to him for help? In all his long years, he had never known a mortal to have such knowledge. It was exclusive to the firstborn; even so, it was rare. A form of magic unknown to them, then? So many questions - questions that needed answers.

Legolas heard footsteps in the corridor outside; then a knock at the door.

"Enter." He called out.

The door opened and a young boy stepped through. "Master elf? I was told to deliver a message to you. You may return to the Lady Jordan's room now."

"_Hannon le_, little one - thank you."

Upon entering her chambers, he was immediately struck by how different she looked. She lay peacefully on the bed in a white sleeping gown. Her hair had been washed and combed and it fanned out on the pillow framing her face, which only showed the faintest hint of the terrible trial she had endured. He sat down wearily in the chair next to her bed and watched her while she slept.

"Who are you my lady," he whispered softly, "and where did you come from?" His conscious was eased somewhat to know she finally had received the necessary care she needed and was resting comfortably. His only hope was that it was enough to save her.

64


	10. The Sun also Rises

Disclaimer: All characters and places mentioned are the sole property of Cyan, Inc., J.R.R. Tolkien, or Peter Jackson/New Line Cinema. This is strictly for entertainment purposes and not based on fact. I do not profit from this story in any way.

**Chapter 8 - The Sun also Rises**

Legolas was weary, indeed. He drifted off into sleep still sitting upright in the chair next to Jordan's bed. Something stirred him; a noise perhaps? He could not tell how long he had slept. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and stretched. Jordan had not moved and was still peacefully asleep; her breathing even and calm. Legolas finally heard what had disturbed his sleep; a light rapping at the door. Upon opening the door, he found it was Cailethas. Legolas stepped out into the corridor and shut the door behind him.

"_Mae Govannen_,Legolas." Cailethas greeted him.

"_Mae Govannen_, Cailethas."

"Quite a return you have made! The whole palace was in an uproar."

"Aye. I do not doubt it."

"What of the injured woman? How does she fare?"

"She is resting comfortably for now, though the healer does not know if she will recover."

"It is fortunate that you discovered her. She may yet have a chance. Sometimes I do not understand the ways of men."

"Nor I, _mellon-nîn_."

"What do you know of her so far?"

"Very little. Only that her name is Jordan and she is a healer. She speaks Westron, although with an accent I cannot place."

"Jordan? A strange name; I have not heard of a name such as that. She is not Haradrim is she?"

"No. Her countenance is fair."

"Most intriguing. And your scouting mission? No threat in the South Wood, I take it?"

"It is most odd, Cailethas. I scouted the woods for two days and found nothing of consequence. I made the decision to abort the mission and return to Emyn Arnen and it was then that I happened upon the Lady Jordan."

"Perhaps _she _was the disturbance. Fair in countenance she may be, but servants of the Dark Lord have many disguises. Sauron has been destroyed but there are still those yet who are willing to do his bidding."

Although he knew Cailethas had cause to be suspicious, his conclusion angered Legolas. "She is not one of Sauron's minions! There is no malice in her heart. I can sense it."

"Forgive me, Legolas. I meant no offense. I simply meant that perhaps you should keep your guard up. Do not be so quick to trust that which we do not know."

"Your concern is duly noted." Legolas said wearily. "Now if there is nothing else, I should like to get back to my watch. The lady could wake up at any time."

"I thought you would like to know the ground-breaking and celebration went well, although your presence was sorely missed, especially by Aragorn and Arwen. They were deeply disappointed, though they understood well the reasoning. They bid me tell you - you are welcome in Minas Tirith for a visit, should you find the time."

"Most gracious of them…perhaps when the lady recovers." Legolas made sure to use 'when' and not 'if'.

"Perhaps. Now then, the hour grows late. I will take my leave of you."

"_Hannon le_. Good night, Cailethas." Legolas said and quietly slipped back into Jordan's quarters.

He leaned over and felt her forehead. It was still hot to the touch but she was not perspiring and did not seem to be in any distress. It was then he noticed a silver chain around her neck and a lump in her sleeping gown just above her breasts. His hand reached out tentatively to touch the lump, but he hesitated thinking it inappropriate. 'I wonder why I failed to notice that before.' He pondered. 'It must be some type of pendant.' He took a soft cloth that Ioreth had left on the side table and soaked it in cool water in a small bowl. Scooting the chair closer to her bed, he sat down and held it to her forehead as Ioreth instructed him to do. She stirred slightly from his touch and moaned.

"All is well, Lady Jordan. You are safe now." He assured her. Her eyes were still closed but she wriggled under his ministrations and slowly brought her hand to her forehead to feel what was on it. Her hand touched his still holding the damp cloth and she slowly ran her probing fingers lightly down the back of his hand, up his arm, and over the pushed up sleeve of his tunic; not realizing yet what was touching her. He held perfectly still, not wanting to startle her. He closed his eyes, inhaled deeply, and shuddered. His skin tingled where she brushed over it; no one had ever touched him like that before. It only lasted a few seconds but it felt like an eternity. He shook himself from this reverie, ashamed. He should not be taking pleasure in her actions as they were not meant to be such. Her eyes fluttered open and saw Legolas' silver-blue eyes boring into hers. She jerked her hand away realizing it was Legolas' arm she was touching.

"I'm sorry." She whispered.

He smiled warmly. "There is no need to apologize, my lady." He took the cloth off her forehead, putting it back in the bowl on the side table. Jordan closed her eyes, scrunched her face up, and held her breath; letting it out with a groan. She was becoming more aware of the pain of her injuries and she clawed at the blanket.

"Lay still my lady. I will get you something for the pain." He said, noticing her anguish. He mixed the draught that Ioreth had left him. Lifting her head, he held the cup to her lips. She smelled the same bitter liquid he made her drink before and turned her head.

"No." She moaned.

"I know the taste is not desirable but you must drink it, Lady Jordan. It will help your pain." He reasoned with her.

She choked down the entire cup, wanting to be free of the pain. He gave her a few sips of water to wash it down. He laid her head down on the pillow and sat back down in the chair.

"Why are you helping me?"

"You are in need of assistance and I am able to provide it." He said simply.

"I wish I would've found _you_ first." Her voice trailed off and she closed her eyes. The sleeping draught was doing its work. Legolas realized he had been on edge and let himself lean back in the chair and relax. He looked at his arm and with his fingers, gently traced over where she had touched him. His skin still tingled from the experience and his reaction left him confused. Sighing, he let his arm fall into his lap and forced himself to think about other things.

Eowyn sat on a chaise, reading, in their spacious quarters. Candles on several large wrought iron candelabras lit the main room and the flames danced upon the rich colors of the tapestries and rugs that decorated it. The double doors to the large balcony were propped open; curtains billowing from the gentle night breeze. The main door opened and the change in air current caused the candles to flicker. Eowyn looked up from her book to see Faramir entering the room meekly.

"I am allowed entrance, oh fair wife?" He called out in the most charming voice he could muster. She put the book down and smiled.

"How can I deny a handsome face such as yours?" He came and sat beside her on the chaise.

"So are you saying that if any other with a handsome face should enter, they would also not be denied?" He jested playfully. She slapped him on the arm and he rubbed it, feigning injury. "Are you still angry with me?"

"No. You made the right decision, in the end. I am proud of you, my love."

"After seeing such a sight, how could I not? How is she?"

"She was asleep when I left. Legolas is with her now. Oh, Faramir. It was awful; the poor woman! She was ill with fever and she had a large festering wound on her leg. Ioreth took a red-hot knife and…oh, I can still hear her scream echoing in my head. Ioreth did the best she could but she still may not survive." Eowyn didn't have to complete the sentence about the knife; Faramir understood what she was talking about. He winced.

"Legolas seems quite taken with her. Maybe he has found love at last."

"Honestly, Faramir. I am sure his actions are simply out of chivalry and compassion. He does not know anything about her; no one does. Besides, she is mortal; he is elf-kind."

He took her hand and kissed it. "It matters not. I knew I loved you the very first time I laid my eyes upon you." Still holding her hand, he pulled her close and kissed her tenderly. She melted into him; wrapping her arms around him and sliding her hands into his hair as he deepened the kiss. After a few moments, he pulled away eliciting a moan from Eowyn. "Perhaps it is the same for him. Come, my love. The hour is late. Let us retire." He said, rising, and led her by the hand towards the bed.

Legolas kept watch over Jordan's fragile state through the night; patiently caring for her like a parent would care for a child. Although restless and anxious, he held steadfast to his duty; placing a cool cloth on her head every couple of hours and studying her breathing. He quietly sang songs in Elvish to sooth both her weary soul and his troubled mind. The first hints of morning light began to filter through the small window of the guest quarters, yet Jordan remained in the clutches of sleep. Legolas was becoming concerned. She should have wakened by now. She needed the medicine. He was uncertain whether it was better to wake her up, so he could give her another cup, or let her sleep. He paced the floor nervously hoping Ioreth would come soon to check on her. The healing wing was a good distance away and Legolas did not want to risk leaving Jordan alone to seek Ioreth's advice. Eventually, he concluded it was more important that she get the medicine she needed and prepared the draught before attempting to rouse her.

"Lady Jordan?" He said, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Lady Jordan?" He said again, shaking her shoulder gently. "Lady Jordan, you must wake up. You need to drink more of the medicine." He could see she was still breathing but she was not responding to his voice. He caressed her cheek and tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear, then taking her hand in his own; he rubbed it, trying to elicit some sort of reaction. "Lady Jordan, please wake up." Finally, she started to open her eyes and Legolas let out a sigh of relief. She licked her lips and tried to speak but her throat was too dry and her voice was no more than a cracked whisper.

"Water," was all she managed to get out.

Legolas slipped his arm underneath her; sitting her up with little effort and gave her a few sips of water. Before laying her back down, he gave her the draught he prepared. Too weak to protest, she drank it all without complaint.

"You see? That was not so bad." He said, patting her arm. She grimaced to let him know 'yes, it was'. He laughed softly.

Just then, there was a knock at the door. Legolas looked up to see Ioreth coming in with a tray of bread and broth.

"Good morning to you both." She said, setting the tray on the side table. "How long has she been awake?"

"Only a few moments. I decided I should wake her; she had slept for so long. I thought it best if she had more of the medicine."

"Good. You did just fine. How are you feeling this morning?" She asked Jordan. She shook her head 'no' and closed her eyes.

Ioreth felt her forehead with her hand. "She is still ill with fever. See if you can get her to drink some broth." Ioreth said to Legolas and went about applying more of the herb paste to Jordan's wounds and redressing them.

"Lady Jordan? Ioreth brought you some broth. Would you like to try some?"

"Does it taste better than that other stuff?" She mumbled.

"I cannot say for certain, but it does smell better." He said, earning a raised eyebrow from Ioreth. He propped her up into more of a sitting position with some pillows and gave her a tentative sip. "Is it agreeable?"

She nodded yes. He gave her a few sips at a time, taking care not to let any broth dribble down the front of her sleeping gown. She put her hand on his arm to stop him from raising the mug to her lips again. "No more." She slurred and closed her eyes.

"I am finished here." Ioreth announced packing up her satchel. "I will return this evening to check on her again."

"Ioreth, will she recover?"

"She is stronger than I thought, but it is still too soon to tell."

As Ioreth was walking out the door, Eowyn was walking in.

"Good morning, Ioreth."

"Good morning, my lady. Go on in, Legolas could probably use some company."

"Thank you."

Legolas sat in a chair near the bed. Eowyn walked over to him and put her hand on his shoulder.

"How is she Legolas?"

"Ioreth said she is still ill with fever and that it is too soon to tell."

"You do not look well, yourself. Were you here all through the night?"

"Aye."

"You should get out of this room for a bit and get some fresh air. I will sit with her."

"Are you certain? I _would_ like to bathe and get a change of clothes."

"Go." She waved him away and smiled. "We will be fine."

Upon returning to his guest quarters, Legolas requested that the maid draw him a hot bath and bring a meal to the room. While he waited, he selected a clean tunic and breeches from the wardrobe and laid them out on the bed.

When the bath was ready and the maid had left, he undressed; putting his soiled clothing in the basket to be washed and eased himself into the steaming water. He sighed as he felt the tension leave his body and he leaned his head against the back of the small wooden tub and closed his eyes. The water was lightly fragranced with oils of myrrh and sandalwood; earthen smells that reminded him of his home in the trees in the new elven colony. It had been a month since he had been there; his time spent mostly on his garden project, and he did not expect he would be returning anytime soon. His guest quarters in the palace were very spacious and open; luxurious even, compared to his modest talan, but he preferred the canopy of cool, green leaves over his veranda and the nearness of the trees to the cold and lifeless stone of the palace.

He had soaked for so long; the water had cooled, forcing him out of the tub. He dressed; then sat on the bed to comb out his hair and rebraid it. He decided to go check on the progress of the garden before returning to Jordan's quarters. It felt good to be outdoors. As he walked, he tried to keep his mind blank to give himself a respite from dark thoughts. When he approached the site where the garden was being established, he saw his friend Cailethas. Cailethas took him around and showed him the work that had been already completed on the borders to make sure it was to his specifications. Legolas spent some time helping to clear the ground on the far west side of the garden and planted some flowering vines that would eventually wind around a trellis. Working his hands in the earth and tending the plants lifted his spirit and gave him a renewed sense of hope. He watched the sun setting, filling the sky with brilliant colors before washing up and returning to relieve Eowyn.

When Legolas returned, Eowyn was reading poetry to Jordan. The sky was growing dark and the first stars of the evening were appearing through the tiny window.

"Forgive me for being away for so long, Eowyn."

"Legolas, it is fine, I assure you. Do not worry yourself."

"Has she woken up at all?"

"No."

"Then, I should wake her and give her more medicine."

"Do you need any assistance?"

"Aye. Will you take the envelope lying on the side table, pour it into a cup, and fill it with water?"

"Certainly."

Legolas sat down on the edge of the bed and patted Jordan's arm. "Lady Jordan?" He patted her arm again "Lady Jordan?" Jordan did not move or make a sound. He took her hand and let out a small gasp. "Your hand is like ice!" He rubbed her hand in both of his, trying to warm it up. Then he did the same for the other hand, all the while calling her name. He felt her forehead; it was not cold like her hands. He touched her cheek. "Eowyn, she is not waking up!" He slid his arm underneath her upper back and sat her up a little, her body was limp. He laid her back down. Eowyn rushed over.

"I can see her chest rising and falling; she is breathing."

"Then why will she not respond?" He asked, with a hint of panic in his voice.

"I do not know. I will get Ioreth." Eowyn said and ran out the door.

There was only one more thing Legolas thought to try. He hated to do it; it was cruel, but it should elicit a reaction - pain stimulus. He pulled the blanket back to uncover the wound on her leg and pressed him thumb into it, hard. He expected her to scream, but she made neither sound nor movement; not even a flinch.

Ioreth rushed into the room with Eowyn close behind. Legolas jumped up and made way for her.

"Ioreth! She will not awaken! I have tried everything. Help her." Legolas implored the healer.

"When was the last time she came round?" She asked sitting on the side of the bed. She felt Jordan's forehead, then put her ear to her chest.

"This morning when you last checked on her." Legolas said.

"Her heart has slowed." Ioreth carefully opened one of Jordan's eyes with her thumb and index finger. "Her body is shutting down. She is in the shadows, somewhere between living and death."

"Surely something can be done." Eowyn said.

"This is beyond my skills to heal. It is in the hands of the Valar now."

"Then what must we do?" Legolas asked.

"Wait. Wait for her spirit to pass from this world to the shadows beyond."

"I will go get us some tea." Eowyn said somberly.

Legolas lit all of the candles about the room and then stood beside Jordan's bed. He picked up her hand and kissed it. "Forgive me, my lady." He rearranged the pillows and tucked the blanket in around her. Although he knew she was not aware of anything going on around her, he felt he should still make her passing as comfortable as possible. Eowyn returned carrying a tray of earthenware mugs brimming with fragrant tea and handed them out to Ioreth and Legolas.

Ioreth stood by the fireplace, leaning against the hearth. Eowyn sat on the bench by the door and Legolas sat slumped in the chair by Jordan's bed looking miserable. No one spoke a word as each of them stared into their tea, lost in their own thoughts. The candlelight flickered and danced eerily with the shadows on the wall, adding to the solemn atmosphere. Ioreth occasional checked Jordan's breathing and listened to her heart. Legolas would raise his head and watch; Ioreth would nod, letting him know she is still alive. Then he would go back to staring into his tea. Eventually, both Ioreth and Eowyn went back to their quarters; it was late into the night and both women were beginning to fall asleep. Before Ioreth left, she put a hand on Legolas' shoulder.

"You know, you do not have to stay. She is not aware of your presence or lack thereof."

"I told her I would help her and I will see her through 'til the very end." He said bitterly. She patted his shoulder to comfort him and left Legolas and Jordan alone.

When Eowyn returned to her room, Faramir was already in bed, asleep. She blew out the remaining candles and slipped in beside him. The movement woke him up.

"I am sorry." She whispered.

"It is all right. I have missed you." He said and put his arms around her, pulling her close. "How is Jordan?"

Eowyn was silent and Faramir felt wetness on his arm and realized she was crying.

"What is it?" He asked tenderly.

Eowyn sniffed. "She would not wake up. Ioreth said she will most likely pass away in her sleep. Legolas will not leave her side. I stayed as long as I could. Oh, Faramir, I feel terrible for him _and_ for her; I feel like my heart is breaking! He looked devastated. What if you were right? What if he did love her and now she is dying?" She started to cry again, and he held her until she fell asleep from exhaustion.

Jordan found herself sitting in the soft grass beside a babbling brook. The sun was high and a warm breeze caressed her face.

She heard a voice say, "Would you like some more wine, my love?"

She realized she held an ornate silver goblet in her hand. As she stared at it in confusion, someone walked over to her and stood near, casting a shadow upon her.

She heard the familiar voice again saying, "I say - would you like some wine, _meleth-nîn_?" She looked up and Legolas was standing over her with a bottle of wine in his hand.

"_What_ am I doing here?" She asked hesitantly.

"What are you _doing_ here?" He laughed. "What ever do you mean?" He asked, certain she was jesting.

"No, Legolas. How did I _get_ here?"

"On horseback." He stated, somewhat confused.

She looked passed him and saw two horses standing beside a tree.

"We are on an excursion." He knelt down beside her, taking her hand. "My love, are you feeling all right?"

"'My love?' Since when have you called me that?"

"Since the day we were married!" He said in disbelief. "What has happened, my love? You are beginning to frighten me."

"Married? You must be joking. I've only just met you maybe three days ago." The look in his eyes was one of pure terror.

"We have been married for two years." He said numbly.

"No! It's not possible. I was injured. You were taking care of me."

He grasped her by the shoulders. "Search your heart; surely you can feel the bond we share!" He said, panicking. She wrenched herself out of his grasp and stood up, dropping her wine goblet on the ground.

"No." She said weakly, stumbling a few steps back from him. A stabbing pain tore through her heart to see the devastated look upon his beautiful face as he knelt there in the grass. She covered her face with her hands, crying, "No, no, no." When she took her hands away from her face, Legolas was gone; the goblet lying on the ground was gone; the horses were gone. She was alone. Her body was stiff and numb from shock and she could not will it to move.

A deep voice called to her from far off, "Jordan!" Across the clearing, at the edge of the woods, she saw someone waving excitedly to her. "Jordan!" He yelled again. Squinting her eyes and shielding them from the sun with her hand, she recognized the person calling to her as Christian. "Hey!" He motioned for her to come to him. He had something in his hand - a book. He held it up in the air for her to see. "I found the book!" He called out. "I've come to take you home!"

"Christian?" She asked incredulously.

"Yes, it's me! Come on! You need to come with me, now!"

Her head was swimming. She took a few steps towards him. Her legs felt like lead.

"Come on! Hurry! Don't you want to go home?"

"Home." She repeated to herself. "Yes. I want to go home." The thought was comforting and a feeling of peace washed over her. She took another few steps in Christian's direction.

"_Stop child. That is not the way home_." An ethereal, undoubtedly female voice echoed through her mind. Jordan looked around wildly. There was no one there.

"What?" She called out the air.

"Who are you taking to?" Christian yelled to her. "Come on!" He said waving her over.

"_The path laid out before you will only lead to death_." The female voice said again.

"But he has the book; the only way for me to get home!"

"_He is nothing more than an apparition. Look._"

Just then a strong gust of wind whipped up, roaring through the trees like a tornado; kicking up a cloud of leaves, dust, and debris. It whirled around her; little pieces of rocks and twigs pelting her skin. She shielded her eyes with her hands. Through the storm, she could still see Christian standing at the edge of the woods, and before her eyes, he dissolved into black smoke and was carried off by the wind. The sun got brighter and brighter until all she could see was white. The wind stopped as suddenly as it had started and everything was silent.

"_You are home._" The voice echoed.

Jordan opened her eyes, blinking them repeatedly against the first rays of morning sunlight streaming through the window. She was lying in a soft bed in a room with stone walls. Scanning around the room, she saw a familiar figure sitting in a chair, still as a statue, staring out the window. His crystal blue eyes were now a misty gray and his expression grief-stricken. With his gaze turned elsewhere, she took the opportunity to study the structure of his face; the strong angle of his jaw, high cheek bones, the shape of his lips, long dark eyelashes, the way his golden hair cascaded over his shoulders, shimmering in the sunlight, and how his ear curved to a delicate point just at the tip. It was a perfect balance of fragile beauty and strength. She wondered what had happened to him to cause such sorrow. He had been so kind to her, she wished she could comfort him in some way. She didn't know anything about him but he was the closest thing she had to a friend, besides Maggie, in the whole of Middle Earth.

"Legolas?" She called softly.

Startled, he nearly jumped out the chair. He rushed to her side and took her hand. "You are alive? Oh, thank the Valar!"

"Alive? Of course I'm alive."

"We could not wake you, my lady. Ioreth said there was naught we could do but wait for your passing."

"Is that why you looked so sad? Because you thought I was going to die?"

He bowed his head. "Aye." He said quietly.

Tears sprang to her eyes. No one in her world would have ever sacrificed themselves so much for a complete stranger.

He looked up and saw the tears running down her cheeks. He wiped them away with his thumb.

"Why do you cry, Lady Jordan?"

"You have been so kind to me and shown so much compassion, the last thing I wanted to do is be the cause of _your_ pain."

Legolas smiled. "Do not despair. It is sometimes difficult for mortals to understand the depth of elven emotions but it is simply the way of the Eldar." He said. "We have a heightened sense of awareness both emotionally _and_ physically, developed over many millennia.

"The Eldar?"

"'Eldar' is what the elves refer to themselves as."

"Oh. It seems I have a lot to learn about the elves."

"Aye."

There was a vague sense of familiarity about him like déjà vu, but she could not place it. Fragments of dreams were mixed with reality and it muddled her memories. It must have been that medicine they were giving her to drink. The harder she thought about it, the more distant it seemed. Wind. No, a storm; caught in a storm.

"Was there a wind storm last night?"

"Nay. The air was still; not a leaf rustling. Why do you ask?"

"It's nothing. It must have been a dream."

A moment of silence passed between them. As she gazed at Legolas, she noticed his eyes were once again a piercing blue that sparkled with life and all traces of the sorrow she saw etched on his face were gone.

"How do you feel? Are you in any pain?" Legolas asked.

"Some. But it is manageable. I wish there was someway to repay you for all that you've done for me."

"There is. Accompany me on a walk when you have recovered? There is something I wish to show you."

"Okay. I can do that. What do you wish to show me?"

"_That_ I think, I will keep a secret and will be the motivation to your recovery." He said with a mischievous smile. His playfulness brought a smile to Jordan's face and he marveled at it.

"I'm feeling pretty motivated right now. I don't think I can stand another minute lying in this bed!"

"Just as you have risen from the shadows…the sun _also_ rises." He said, pointing out the window. "Would you like to go out and greet it?"

"I would love to."

72


	11. Stand

Disclaimer: All characters and places mentioned are the sole property of Cyan, Inc., J.R.R. Tolkien, or Peter Jackson/New Line Cinema. This is strictly for entertainment purposes and not based on fact. I do not profit from this story in any way.

**Chapter 9 - Stand**

Legolas helped Jordan to sit up and swing her legs over the edge of the bed.

"Legolas, something is wrong."

He put her arm around his shoulders and wrapped his arm around her waist to assist her in standing up.

"Legolas, stop! I can't feel my leg."

"What do you mean?"

"I mean I can't feel my leg!" She said, panic rising in her voice.

"Perhaps it is because you have been abed for so long. Try to stand." He pulled her to her feet and her injured leg buckled and she collapsed into Legolas. He caught her in his powerful arms and sat her back down on the bed.

She pulled the hem of her sleeping gown up to her thighs and groped her lower leg around the bandage, feeling the skin. She could not feel her own touch from just below her knee down to her toes. She tried to flex her foot and wiggle her toes but it was like they were not her own and did not respond.

"Oh God, no!" She cried. "Legolas, I have no feeling in my leg!"

Legolas dropped to one knee putting himself at eye level with her and rested his hand on her shoulder. "There must be a simple explanation for this. Please stay calm, my lady. Everything will be all right." His soft voice and words of comfort were not enough to ease the panic and fear that gripped her mind. 'Not here. Not in Middle Earth.' She thought. How would she deal with such a disability in this primitive world? She began to hyperventilate. She tore frantically at the bandage and he grabbed her hands in his. "Stop!" He commanded.

"Let me go!" She yelled, clawing at the bandage and struggling to free her hands from his grip.

"No, you must stop this! You will injure yourself further."

Jordan's small hands, now wet with perspiration, wriggled out of his grasp and she tore away the bandage around her leg and it fluttered to the stone floor. She gasped loudly at what she saw and covered her mouth with the back of her hand, choking back a sob. The dark pink edges of the gash were separated by about 2 cm revealing a deep depression of exposed subcutaneous tissue along the length of it. A wound like this would have required several layers of sutures back home. Without sutures to bring the edges of the wound together, it would fill in with fibrous tissue creating a disfiguring scar. Judging by the depth and angle of the wound, she had a fairly good idea as to the cause of her predicament. She put her head in her hands and cried.

Legolas could feel her anguish and his heart went out to her but he was at a loss as to how to handle her emotional outpouring. Should he take her in his arms and console her? Let her be? Words would offer little condolence. Therefore, he waited patiently, still crouched on the stone floor, leaving it up to her to take the initiative. The wound didn't look terrible necessarily. He had seen much worse wounds inflicted in battle. It would heal eventually; but the fact she could not feel her leg was disconcerting. She finally raised her head and wiped her red-rimmed eyes. She forced her clinical self to take over and assess her condition like she would any other patient. Using her hand, she manually rotated her ankle and wiggled each toe, then tried to repeat the motion using only her muscles. Still, there was no movement.

"Give me something sharp." She said; her voice ragged from crying.

"Lady Jordan, I do not think…"

"Just give me something sharp!" She screamed.

He was taken aback by her sudden outburst of anger. He jumped to his feet, took the dagger from his belt, and handed it to her, afraid of what she might do with it, but more afraid of provoking her further by refusing. She scooted herself back on the bed and swung her legs around so that she sat with her legs out in front of her. She pricked the inside of her lower leg with the needle-sharp tip of the dagger, drawing a drop of blood.

Legolas stared, frozen in shock and utterly confused as to why she would do this to herself. He watched as she pierced her own skin and showed no sign of pain or discomfort. He watched as the tiny drop of blood ran down her leg, splashing onto the bed sheet. She repeated this action on the outside of her leg. She felt it there, causing her to draw in her breath sharply. She continued to prick her skin in various places, working her way down to the top of her foot, and eventually the tip of each toe. Legolas began to see a pattern. The places she pricked on the inside of her leg caused no reaction. The places on the outside of her leg, apparently she could feel.

"You're wondering what I am doing aren't you." She said dully as she continued her self-examination. She didn't give him a chance to answer. "A very crude nerve conduction test." She smiled grimly, feeling oddly superior in knowing that which he did not. "Based on the upper medial to lower lateral course of denervation, it seems that either Ioreth severed the tibialis nerve when she cauterized the wound…or it was damaged by the infection or there is scar tissue compressing it." Of course, without the advantage of the modern diagnostic tools of her world, she would never know the underlying cause with certainty. But the effect was the same - the nerve that enabled her to flex and extend her foot was damaged and without that control in addition to the lack of sensation in the tissues, she would never be able to walk unassisted. Even at home, it would take extensive physical therapy and then she would only be able to walk with the aid of forearm crutches. Legolas stood looking at her with wide eyes completely bewildered; as if she was speaking a language he did not understand. She realized he probably didn't comprehend a word of what she just said but she didn't care to reiterate in more simplistic terms.

"Nevermind. It would take too long to explain. Basically what it means is I most likely won't be able to walk again." The bitterness she felt coming through in her voice.

As an immortal being, he did not understand the concept of a long-term disability. He had only suffered minor injuries in battle and healed quickly.

"But certainly it will heal in time." He offered encouragingly.

"No, Legolas," she said solemnly, "nerves do not heal nor do they grow back. If they are damaged, they do not work…ever."

The day that started out with such promise, for both of them, was shattered with this new realization. For Jordan, all hopes of leading any kind of a 'normal' life in Middle Earth were completely destroyed and after everything she had been through since she arrived, she just wanted to go home. Go home, and put it all behind her. _You are home…_Her mind echoing the words of the nameless ethereal voice she had heard before in automatic response. 'No, I'm not.' She shot back resolutely and pushed the thought out of her head.

'How could she not see that there is hope? There is _always_ hope.' He thought. He knew; he had lived it. The Fellowship, himself included, had faced impossible situations with insurmountable odds where it seemed all hope was lost; but it was there; a single spark in the darkness and they emerged triumphant.

"I am not a healer and I do not pretend to hold any understanding of the things you have spoken about but perhaps your despair is clouding your thoughts. I will go get Ioreth. She will know what to do."

She sighed and managed a sad, half smile; her eyes conveying both sadness and pity. 'He is so innocent, so full of hope. How could he know there is none?'

"Legolas, come here." She said softly and motioned for him to sit on the bed. She took his hand, palm up, and ran her finger across his palm. "Do you feel that?"

"Aye."

"What did I do?"

"You touched my hand."

"How do you know?"

He didn't really know how to answer. "I just know. I felt it. I saw you touch me."

"Good. But do you know _why_ you know?"

He thought about it for awhile and could not come up with an answer. "Nay, I do not."

"The skin on your hand just sent a signal…a message to your brain…your mind," she touched his temple, "telling it something has touched it. Your eyes sent a signal as well saying they saw my finger touch your hand. Your mind puts these two pieces of information together and now understands that I have touched your hand and sends this message back to your eyes and hand. Now all of it comes together; you feel my touch, you see it, and you understand it; and all of this happens instantaneously. Still holding his hand, she said, "Now imagine a line going from your hand all the way up to your brain." She traced an imaginary line from his hand, up his arm, across his shoulder, and up the back of his neck to his head. He shivered involuntarily from her touch. "_That_ is the nerve. It is how the signal travels from the skin of your hand to your brain and back again. Your body has hundreds of these nerves carrying signals from every part of your body to your brain.

He watched her intently as she gave her lesson; his emotions a mixture of sadness and awe. The knowledge she possessed far surpassed any concept of healing he had ever heard of; things that, until now, he never thought to question. 'She must be someone of great power and importance in her land.' He thought and regarded her with a new-found reverence.

"Now, imagine that line was broken," she traced a line from the palm of his hand to his forearm, "here. Your eyes could tell your brain you see my finger touching your skin, but your skin's signal would go to here," she touched her index finger to the middle of his forearm, "and stop. The signal would not reach your brain. In turn, your brain does not know to tell your skin something is touching it, so you can _see_ I am touching you but you cannot _feel_ it." As she said this, she ran her finger along his forearm, hovering just above his skin so he could not feel her touch, to demonstrate. "When this happens," she continued, "it is irreversible. The nerve cannot reconnect if it is broken." She let his hand go and searched for a sign of comprehension in his eyes. She could've continued to explain how nerves control motor function but it would've only served to confuse him further. "Can you understand now the significance of an injury like this? Even the most skilled of healers could not repair it."

"Though I am certain my level of understanding is not as great as yours, aye, I understand." He said meekly.

With intelligence greater than any mortal woman he had known and the mystery surrounding her origins, he realized he felt humbled in her presence much like he did in the company of Lady Galadriel.

Explaining human anatomy and physiology to Legolas took the focus off of her injury, but once the lesson was over, she embraced her hopelessness. She laid back down in the bed with a heavy sigh and turned on her side facing Legolas; the side in which her ribs were not broken. Although Legolas understood, to some degree, her explanation as to why her leg would never heal, he refused to believe; still clinging to hope.

"Just tell me what to do and I shall do it."

"I appreciate all that you've done for me, Legolas; I really do, but there is nothing you can say or do to help me now."

He sensed she was already giving in to despair and he would not let this happen. "You cannot give up so easily. You need to fight!" He demanded.

"Fight? I don't want to fight anymore!" She yelled. "I'm tired of fighting! I just want to…" She stopped abruptly in mid-sentence. She had already said too much. She couldn't tell him she wanted to go home. She sighed. "Nevermind." She said sadly. "You should just go."

"But Lady Jordan, I…" He argued.

Perturbed, she cut him off. "Just go!"

"As you wish." He said caustically and left quickly, closing the door hard behind him.

A tear slipped down her cheek and she wiped it away angrily. 'Why is he so damned determined?' She thought. She was tired of crying; tired of being angry; she just wanted a life that was happy and peaceful, but it always managed to elude her somehow. Legolas clenched his fists as he stormed down the corridor. 'She is acting like a stubborn child!' He made his way to the healing wing to speak with Ioreth.

Worn out and emotionally spent, Jordan fell into a troubled sleep. She dreamt the same dream as before where she was lost in a forest and someone or something was chasing her. Only this time, she couldn't walk on her injured leg; all she could do was drag herself through the brush using her arms and pushing with her good leg. Terrified, she screamed and cried for help, but no one could hear her. Whatever was chasing her was almost upon her; the rustling of brush and snapping of twigs getting louder. She woke, sitting straight up in bed, breathless and drenched in sweat. 'It was a dream…just a stupid dream.' She thought, feeling ridiculous for having a nightmare like a kid; but it served to confirm her fears about staying in Middle Earth with such a disability. Dealing with mobility issues in a world where the only means of transportation was on horseback or on foot was a prospect she could not bear. She poked at her leg hoping it had been a dream, too, but to her dismay, _that_ had been real. She growled in frustration and fell back on the bed with a thud and stared at the ceiling.

She replayed the argument she had with Legolas and felt wretched for yelling at him. He was only trying to help. He was _always_ trying to help and maybe that is what made her so angry - she couldn't accept it. He was so beautiful and kind; his venerable presence exuding such grace and strength. Why would he want to help _her_? And moreover, what did he want in return? She was nobody with nothing to give.

By the time Legolas reached the healing wing, his anger had subsided and he regretted the tone he took with her, especially in her condition. He had uncharacteristically allowed his emotions to rule his actions. He resolved to make amends this evening; presuming this would be a sufficient amount of time for her anger to have diminished. Legolas spotted Ioreth at the far end of the healing wing and waited patiently for her come around.

"Good day, Legolas. News on the lady I presume?"

"Aye. She has awakened; however, there is a new complication."

"Oh? What is it?"

"She says she no longer has feeling in her injured leg. She told me a nerve was damaged and that this is an injury that does not heal. She explained to me how nerves carry signals to your mind that allow your body to feel, although I did not quite understand it completely."

"Nerves? I do not know 'nerves', but there was a chance this might happen - an unfortunate, but necessary risk."

"So am I to understand you were _aware_ of this as a possible outcome beforehand?" Anger welled up and he fought to maintain his composure.

"Yes, Legolas. The only other option was death. Which would _you_ have chosen? It is my duty as healer to make those kinds of decisions!" She did not take kindly to someone questioning her judgment, even if they were a prince. "As soon as I am finished here, I should like to speak with her. Tell her I will be there shortly."

"I would but she became upset with me and bade me to leave. I do not wish to renew her anger so soon."

"Fine. I will come unannounced. Now, begging you pardon, I have work to do." She turned abruptly and walked away, skirt swishing behind her.

It seemed to Legolas he could not please anyone today. He decided to go to the archery range for some practice and hopefully some friendly competition to get his mind off this morning's unpleasantries.

Jordan heard a knock at the door. She groaned thinking it to be Legolas.

"Go away." She cried out. The door opened anyway but it wasn't Legolas, it was Ioreth. "I'm sorry, I thought you were Legolas."

"No." She chuckled. "He is prettier than I, although, he came to see me earlier and spoke to me about your condition."

She rolled her eyes. 'Of course he did.' She thought sarcastically.

"He said you explained to him the nature of this new condition. I should like to hear more."

Jordan was about to tell her she didn't feel up to a lengthy conversation but Ioreth had already plopped herself down in the chair and was looking at her expectantly. Half-heartedly, she gave the same explanation to Ioreth as she gave Legolas.

Wide eyed and astonished, Ioreth asked, "How do you know this?"

Jordan had to choose her words carefully. "It is common knowledge among all of the ph…healers in my land." She almost said 'physicians' but quickly corrected herself.

"I have never heard of healing thusly. Would you be willing to teach me your ways? When you are well, of course." She added.

"Sure. When I am well." Jordan echoed just to appease her; knowing she was committing to nothing because in her mind she would never be well.

"Oh, wonderful!" She clasped her hands together in elation. "Now, I have brought some liniment and new cloth to redress your wound. Jordan felt she no longer needed medical care but didn't want to argue her point with the woman, so she let her perform her duties and be on her way.

As Legolas made his way from the palace grounds to the archery range, he heard a female voice calling his name. He looked around, finally catching sight of Eowyn in the distance, waving to him. He stopped, allowing her to catch up. Eowyn. There was a time when he had thought of her as nothing more than a foolish woman who spat in the eye of fate, tempting it to take her life by her reckless endeavors. But he realized it was not recklessness but courage and passion she displayed; born out of a desire to protect her country and those she loved; and he admired her for it.

"Why are you out here? What has happened to the Lady Jordan?" She searched his eyes fearing the worst. She didn't know why she was so captivated by this strange woman but ever was she the defender of women who were oppressed or mistreated by men.

He held up his hand. "There is no cause for alarm. She is well."

"Really?" Eowyn was overjoyed. But the look on Legolas' face did not match her enthusiasm. "What is it?"

"She no longer has use of her injured leg."

"Oh! That is terrible!"

"Aye. She is taking it rather poorly and I fear for her well-being. She is allowing herself to succumb to her grief. I tried to make her see the error of her ways but she became angry and bid me leave her."

"Legolas," She said gently, "you give poor counsel. You cannot tell her she is wrong for feeling a certain way."

"I confess I do not have much experience in the dealings of emotions where women or _elleth_ are concerned. Perhaps you could speak to her? She may respond to another woman more favorably."

"Of course. I should like to get to know the woman who has captured the heart of our elven warrior prince."

"Nay, Eowyn. You have misinterpreted my intentions. As I said before, I care about her well-being."

"So, you admit you do not have feelings for her?" She asked curiously.

"Only those of compassion for one who is in need."

"Forgive me. I did not mean to pry," thinking to herself, 'Your eyes betray your words, Legolas,' then, "I would be happy to speak with her. I shall go at once."

"Thank you, Eowyn. Farewell."

"Farewell, Legolas." She smiled to herself as she walked away. 'Curious, very curious.'

Shortly after the healer left, there was another knock at the door.

"Can't people just leave me alone?" Jordan growled under her breath. She said nothing hoping they would go away. To her dismay, they simply entered without approval. This time, a plump, smallish woman carrying a tray of food walked in.

"I am Maeve, a servant of the royal house. I have brought you some breakfast."

"Legolas sent you, didn't he?"

"For certain he did not. I was informed that we had a guest occupying this wing who would require meals delivered to their quarters. You are she, yes?"

"I suppose. But who told you to do this, if not Legolas?"

"Why Princess Eowyn, miss." She said matter-of-factly, handing Jordan the tray.

'Princess?' She thought. The idea seemed foreign even in thought. Princes and princesses she associated with the British. Encountering royalty in Middle Earth was a notion she never bothered to give much consideration to. Stranger still, that a _princess_ would care to see that she was fed. Then another thought dawned on her.

"There was a woman here while I was ill. I thought her name was Eowyn but I can't be sure. Is that her? Was she here?"

"Begging your pardon, miss. I am just the housekeeper. I know naught of the company she keeps. Now, if there is nothing further you require, I will take my leave."

"No…I guess not."

"Good day then, miss." Maeve bowed and hurried out the door.

Jordan inspected the tray of food. 'Breakfast' consisted of some bread, fruit, what looked like scrambled eggs, and a goblet of dark wine. She picked at it hesitantly, not really caring to eat but her body said otherwise. She cleaned the plate with the exception of a few pieces of fruit. She sniffed the wine, then tasted a little on her tongue. It was sweet, more like port that the typical 'dry' red wines she was used to. 'How odd to serve wine with breakfast.' She set it back down on the tray deciding it was unwise to be drinking alcohol in her weakened condition. 'On second thought, what the hell does it matter?' Her despair taking hold again. She gulped the sweet liquid down and set the tray aside, settling back into the bed. Her thoughts turned to Legolas, wondering where he had stormed off to. She pondered his place here in the palace. She had yet to see another elf and wondered if there were more like him. She couldn't deny the fact that he was physically stunning; his golden hair and azure-colored eyes being his most striking features. Earlier, as she gave her physiology lesson, his hair had grazed over her hand and it felt like fine strands of silk. The desire to run her fingers through its long length and to touch the delicate point of his ears crossed her mind. 'No! What am I thinking?' She shook the thoughts from her mind, horrified that they had appeared in the first place. It was natural to become enamored with one's rescuer, especially one so beautiful, but it only served as a painful reminder of that which she would never have. Her head suddenly felt fuzzy and her eyes heavy. She realized it must be the potent wine getting to her and the thoughts that it gave way to only succeeded in darkening her already dismal mood.

She must have drifted off for awhile, for when she opened her eyes she noticed one of the servants had been in her room and left a platter of bread and fruit, a pitcher of water, and a goblet of wine on the side table. She looked at the food with disdain. Not that she wasn't hungry; she just didn't feel like eating it. She poured herself a glass of water instead. As she stared out the tiny window at the blue sky, she remembered Maggie. She regretted ever leaving Maggie's little cabin in the peaceful valley. She could have stayed there, milked the goats, tended the garden; at least there she had been whole. And what was she now? An empty shell; broken in body and spirit.

She took herself back to Maggie's valley in her mind and envisioned walking through the tall grass, brushing her hands over the top of it. The sun was warm on her back and she sat on the bank of a cool stream and let her fingers dangle in the water, creating little wakes behind them. She cupped her hands to take a drink, feeling the chill of the water as it slid down her throat. She closed her eyes and swayed with the imaginary breeze, pretending her life was one of happiness and tranquility but a soft knock at the door brought her back to reality. She heard the door open and looked over to see a young woman with very long blond hair wearing a deep green gown with elaborate gold embroidery at the bodice and a delicate gold chain at the waist, the long ends of which came together to dangled just above knee level. Her pale blue eyes and light hair were in striking contrast to her dress. She smiled as she walked in clutching several books to her chest which she set down on the side table.

"Hello. How are you feeling?"

Her face looked familiar to Jordan but she could not place it. Seeing her confusion, Eowyn said, "Oh, you must not remember. I am Eowyn."

"Are you _Princess_ Eowyn?"

Eowyn laughed lightheartedly. "In title, yes." Jordan's expression of awe was surprising to Eowyn.

"Wow. I have never met a princess before." Jordan's awe turned to apprehension. She wanted to be respectful. "Oh! How should I address you? Your Highness?"

Eowyn laughed again. "No, no. There is no need to stand on ceremony here; especially for one who is a friend of Legolas. You may call me Eowyn."

"Pleased to meet you, Eowyn. I am Jordan Blakely." Eowyn's carefree manner put Jordan at ease and she found she liked her immediately.

"I brought a few books for you to read, if you like."

"Thank you. That was very thoughtful of you. Thank you for having meals sent to me as well."

"It's the least I can do. I know you cannot make it to the dining hall as of yet."

"Do you mind if I ask you a question."

"You may ask. I do not mind."

Jordan felt awkward but she was fascinated by royalty; and here was a princess willing to talk candidly with her. "Are you a princess by marriage or are you the daughter of a king?"

"My husband is Faramir; son of Denethor. At the deaths of his father and brother, he was the successor to the throne of Gondor as Steward. After the war and Aragorn was crowned king, Aragorn declared these lands a princedom and gave title and lordship to Faramir. Now he is known as 'Prince Faramir.'

"That is terrible he lost his father and brother." She said, thinking of the recent loss of her own father as well.

"We all lost much during the war. We have peace now, but many paid dearly for it." She said wistfully, remembering her beloved uncle Theoden and cousin Theodred.

Jordan sensed this was a painful subject, so she said, "What about Legolas? What does he do here?"

Eowyn looked at her in shock. "He has not told you of himself?"

"No. Not that we've really had a chance to talk." She paused feeling a little sheepish. "I kind of threw him out the last time he was here."

"Ah, yes. He told me that you and he had quarreled." Jordan groaned. "Do not fret. He is not angry. In fact, he is quite remorseful."

"Oh." This made Jordan feel even worse.

"I can say presently, he is lending his talents to graciously design and plant a grand garden for Faramir and I."

"So, he is a gardener?"

Eowyn laughed. "No. Legolas is many things, but gardener is not amongst his titles. Elves have a natural affinity for all living things," then she added, "and an eye for beauty." Then it dawned on her - 'Legolas has not told her he is a prince.' Eowyn had been perplexed by Jordan's slight unease and then curiosity about her title after having kept company with a prince. Now it all made sense. She disclosed nothing about her realization but smiled and said wisely, "I will leave the rest for Legolas to tell."

The two women talked until the sun had started to go down and it was growing increasingly dim in her little cavern-like room. Eowyn was kind enough to go around the room and light all of the candles, knowing it would be difficult for Jordan.

"The servants should be arriving with supper shortly. I should be on my way, now. Faramir will be expecting me. If you wish it, I can visit again tomorrow evening."

"Okay."

"Farewell, Jordan." And with a twirl of her long hair and skirt, she was gone.

Jordan took one of the books from the side table and looked it over. It appeared old; bound with leather. It had no title, nor a description inside the front cover, so she had no way of knowing what it was about. The print was crude and hard to see in the flickering candlelight, so she closed it and set it aside. It wasn't long before the same servant, Maeve, brought her a tray of some unidentified meat, bread and another goblet of wine. So, she sat alone in the glow the candles and ate her dinner in silence; eating most of the bread and picking at the meat. She set all but the goblet of wine aside. Holding the goblet in her hand, she hung her head and stared into the dark liquid as tears fell from her eyes rippling its surface; the picture of abject misery.

Just then, there was a slight rapping on the door, then, "Lady Jordan? It is I, Legolas. May I come in?"

She sniffed and quickly set the goblet on the side table, wiping her eyes with the sheet.

"Um, just a minute." She sniffed again and tried to smooth out her hair and straighten her disheveled appearance. "Okay. You can come in."

"Am I disturbing you?"

"No." She tried to smile but it did not do much to cover up the evidence of her recently shed tears.

"I am certain it has been a long day for you and I will not keep you; I merely wanted to apology for my behavior earlier. I should not have raised my voice to you. Forgive me."

"Its okay, Legolas. I know you were just trying to help. I'm sorry I yelled at you. You did not deserve it."

"Then let us put this entire incident behind us and start anew."

"I would like that."

"I shall come again in the morning. Until then." He said with a slight bow.

"Good night, Legolas."

Even though they had both apologized, she still felt miserable about the situation. She took the goblet in hand again and drained it of its contents. She stared at the flickering flames of the candles; her eyes becoming heavy until she saw only a sliver of light through slitted lids. Unknowingly, the empty goblet slipped out of her hand and clattered to the floor.

Early the next morning, Legolas was up to greet the sun. It was promising to be a beautiful day and he was determined this would be the day he would get Jordan to come outside and enjoy the garden. Upon arriving at her quarters, he knocked lightly and pushed the door open. She was still asleep. She looked so peaceful; he decided not to disturb her. Turning to leave, he noticed the goblet that lay sideways on the stone floor. Furrowing his brow in curiosity, he picked it up and placed it back on the tray. Although, he never made a sound, Jordan sensed someone in the room with her and opened her eyes to see Legolas standing next to her bed.

"Hey." She said in a groggy voice.

"Good morning, Lady Jordan. I did not realize you would still be asleep. I will come back later."

"No, it's okay. Hold on, just let me sit up." The terrible memories of yesterday had not yet caught up to her. Without thinking, she tried to use her feet to scoot herself towards the head of the bed and into a sitting position and found that it didn't work like it should. Then, it all came flooding back to her. After some struggling, she managed to sit up, with her back resting on the pillows. Legolas waited for her to get situated.

"I wondered if you might like to visit the gardens this morning." He noticed an instant change in her demeanor from one of pleasantness to brooding.

"How am I supposed to get there? I can't walk."

"Perhaps I could carry you."

"No. Absolutely not. It would look ridiculous having to be carried."

"Why does it matter what it looks like?"

"It just does." She said darkly; her hand absent-mindedly reaching up to finger the necklace underneath her the fabric of her sleeping gown.

Legolas was beginning to understand. She was too proud and independent. She would never accept anything less than walking on her own. He would have to think of something else.

"Well, if that is your decision, I have no choice but to abide by it. Unfortunately, I have neglected my duties in the garden for far too long and I must be leaving. I shall come again tomorrow morning. Until then."

"Oh…okay…bye." She said; sounding somewhat crestfallen. She didn't understand why he affected her like he did. She didn't really want to talk but yet felt dejected by him leaving so soon.

The rest of the morning and into the afternoon, Legolas worked in the garden, digging holes in the earth with a length of tree branch that reached his waist. The sun was high and closing his eyes, he turned his face towards it to revel in its warmth; his golden hair gently fluttering around his face in the breeze. He looked around in satisfaction. The garden was taking shape nicely. He smiled to himself and let his thoughts drift, resting his weight on the stick when an idea struck him - If the lady had a stick like this of the right height, she could lean into it, using the stick for support rather than her leg. Keeping one foot off the ground, he tried walking, or rather hopping with it; garnishing strange looks from others working in the garden. It was effective, although it required quite a bit of upper body strength. He worked into the evening carving a branch to what he estimated as the right size, smoothing it off at the top so it was easy on the hand.

The next day, Legolas waited to visit Jordan until the late morning; certain she would be fully awake by then. He brought with him the walking stick that he had carved hoping this would be the answer. It would at least allow her to walk on her own reconnaissance rather than be assisted by someone.

"Good morning, Lady Jordan." Upon noticing the tray of breakfast still untouched on the side table, he said, "Are you not going to eat your breakfast?"

"I'm not hungry," she said flatly, "and must you call me 'lady' all the time?" She huffed. Most of the time, it was an eccentricity she found endearing, but today it just seemed to rub her the wrong way.

Legolas was puzzled. "It is the proper way to greet one whom you are not on familiar terms with."

"I think we are on 'familiar terms', Legolas."

He shrugged. "As you wish," then eager to change the subject, "I brought you something." He said, holding out the walking stick. "I thought perhaps it could assist you in walking. It is a beautiful morning outside. Would you like to try?"

She sighed heavily. "Maybe some other time."

Legolas forced himself to maintain a neutral expression to hide his frustration at her indifference. He deliberately set the walking stick in a corner within her line of sight, hoping she would try it in private, but he had a feeling she would not. He sat down heavily in the chair, the only evidence of his disappointment.

"Perhaps it would be best if I returned to your homeland. Perhaps you would fare better there."

"I can't go home."

"You would not have to walk nor ride on horseback for that matter. I could obtain a cart for you to ride in."

"No, Legolas. You don't understand. It's not a place you can get to." Slight frustration was building in her voice. She regretted having said anything. 'He is not going to give this up. I am going to end up having to tell him.'

"Just tell me where it is. There are maps in the library. I will take you there no matter the length of the journey, if that is what you desire. We have all the provisions we may need at our disposal."

Her hand instinctively went to the vial she wore around her neck, gripping it through the fabric of her nightdress, her thumb caressing its side. This did not go unnoticed by Legolas.

"I can't tell you where it is." She looked down in her lap. She could not make eye contact with him.

"I find this reluctancy very puzzling. Since you have arrived, not once have you spoken about your homeland nor why you were traveling alone through the forest with naught but a small sac. You keep that jewel you wear around your neck hidden, touching it through the fabric but never taking it out. You think I do not see, but I do. What is this secret you carry?" He lifted her chin and her eyes locked with his; cerulean pools of an endless depth that bore into hers with such intensity, she felt it pierce her soul. She trembled. She knew she could hide nothing from him. She broke their gaze and looked away towards the window.

"You would not believe me if I told you." She said in a quiet voice.

"Jordan, look at me." He waited as she slowly turned her head towards him before he continued. "Over two millennia I have walked this earth, seen many lands, fought many battles against foes with incomprehensible powers; I have seen things I would ne'er believed had my own eyes not witnessed them firsthand. I do not think anything you could tell me would be unfathomable. Trust me."

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. When she opened them, she began her tale. Legolas listened intently and refrained from asking questions until her story was told in its entirety.

"You cannot get to my home because it is not of this world. I traveled to Middle Earth using technology created by an ancient race of people called the D'ni. The people are long gone - their civilization was destroyed long ago; but the ruins of their city remain. The D'ni's greatest achievement, as it was discovered, was writing; not books that you read but books that will take you to other worlds. They called these books 'linking books.' I found a linking book when I visited the city; one that linked to Middle Earth. Right before my father died, he told me that my mother was not human but one of the last remaining survivors of D'ni and that I was half. My lineage was kept a secret to protect me. He told me that because of my differences, it was no longer safe for me in my world and that I should use the linking book and start a new life here in Middle Earth. So, after he died, I did. But the book must have been damaged because instead of arriving at Minas Tirith, I ended up in the middle of a forest. The only thing I could do was to somehow find my way back to Minas Tirith, where my father believes the other linking book is kept. All I had was a backpack. It's all I could carry when I came through. I didn't plan on needing any more supplies than that. But it was such a long ways to Minas Tirith and I ran out of food and water. I don't remember how many days passed that I went without them, but everyday I grew weaker and I fell and hurt my leg which slowed me down even further. I knew I wouldn't last much longer. That is why I took the horse. I figured if I could get to Minas Tirith faster, I might have a chance." She finally pulled the small glass vial she wore as a pendant out from under her sleeping gown and showed it to Legolas. "This was a gift from a friend of my father's to remember my heritage. The inscription is in the language of the D'ni - the same language that the linking book is written in," she said, pointing to the inscription, "and inside are the ashes of my mother and father…all that is left of my family." She ended sadly.

She unhooked the clasp and handed it to Legolas so he could inspect it close up. He held it up to the light; then looked at the inscription closely, tracing the foreign letters with his finger.

"You can read this?"

"No, but I know what it says. It says 'When all is taken from the one, the only hope that remains is what is given by another. Through this giving, both are redeemed.'"

He handed it back to her saying, "It is truly a work of art," and said nothing more, but continued to look upon her with a blank expression. Jordan grew increasingly uncomfortable under his persistent gaze. Finally she said, "I told you, you would not believe me."

"Do not mistake my silence for disbelief. I have many questions and I am merely putting my thoughts in order." To Jordan, it seemed like hours before Legolas spoke again. "How is it you travel through a book?"

Jordan didn't know how to describe it to him. "I can explain to you how it done, but I do not know how it works. None of my people do. Their technology is beyond us. All we know is that it works. Hand me a book from the bookshelf."

"Which one?"

"It doesn't matter. Any one." He retrieved a book and handed it to her. "When you open the front cover of a linking book, there is a picture in the middle of the page right here." She traced a square on the page with her finger. He stopped her. "What is a picture?"

"It's like a drawing or a painting." She continued, "It is called the 'linking panel' and it shows your destination. You put your hand on it like this," she placed the palm of her hand flat on the page, "and before you can count to about two, you are transported to that world." He stared at the page for a long time.

"So, if someone were to see you do this, you would disappear before their eyes?"

"Yes. I know it sounds crazy but that's the way it happens."

"And you say there is a book like this in Minas Tirith?"

"Based on the information we had, and the fact that the linking panel showed Minas Tirith, that was the assumption."

"And it is written in the language that is on your amulet?"

"The D'ni language, yes."

"You said it was not safe for you in your world because of your differences. How are you different from the rest of your people?"

"I am half D'ni. The D'ni lifespan is around 325 years old. A human's is around 80 or 90. I do not look any different than anyone else in my world, but I will not age the same as others and people will start to ask questions. You have men, hobbits, elves, and dwarves in your world. Mine only has one race - the race of men, as you call them here, and they do not like things they cannot understand. It causes suspicion and mistrust.

"If you are only half, how long will your lifespan be?"

"I do not know. There is only one other instance of a child being born half D'ni, except in that case, the father was a D'ni and the mother a woman. The age upon her death was never recorded."

After a long awkward silence, Legolas said, "I am sorry to hear about the death of your parents."

"Thank you."

Legolas stood up preparing to leave.

"I have work that needs attending to in the garden," then added, "you may accompany me if you wish."

"No thank you. I am fine here."

"Suit yourself." Legolas took a few paces toward the door.

"Wait." Jordan called out. Legolas stopped and turned around. "That's it? You're just going to accept my explanation as fact and leave?"

"Aye. Is this not the reaction you were hoping for?" He asked, sitting back down in the chair.

"Well, yes. But I didn't think it would be that easy. I thought it would at least take you a while to come to terms with it."

"I will be honest. I do find it quite perplexing and strange but I know you are not telling a lie; I can see it in your eyes and in your mannerisms. Plus, it is the only explanation that makes sense. You speak Westron with an accent I have never heard before, you use words that sometimes I do not understand, you know nothing of elves and little about Middle Earth, and you have a knowledge of healing that far exceeds our own resident healer." Jordan was dumbfounded. She had no inkling he had already made these observations of her.

"You won't tell anyone will you?"

"Nay. I will leave that up to you," he said as he stood up, "but I would caution you to use discretion as there are some who may not understand. The day grows late and I must be going now. I shall see you again tomorrow."

"Good…bye." The last syllable faded as she realized he had already walked out the door and closed it behind him. She shook her head. 'He's acting strange.'

Legolas' words indicated he was fine with this new information about her but in truth, he wasn't. He felt quite disconcerted and needed to get away and clear his head; think things through. Instead of going to the garden, he opted for a short trip on horseback to a secluded pool he liked to swim in now and again. It was a small but deep pool of crystal clear water at the base of a waterfall surrounded by an outcropping of rocks. It was very private as few people knew about its existence.

Standing on a high rock, he divested himself of his clothing and dove headfirst into the pool straight to the bottom; relishing the feeling of the cool water as it enveloped his bare skin. Pushing off the sandy bottom, he broke through the surface with such force, he came up out of the water to his waist and splashed down again. Tipping his head back in the water, he smoothed his long tresses away from his face and floated on his back, letting the waves created by the falls gently rock his body. He let go of everything; shutting the world out and clearing his mind until all that existed was this very moment and all that he knew was himself, the water, and his immediate surroundings. He created little tasks of endurance; swimming to the opposite end of the pool and back again as fast as he could and then again but under the water along the bottom; seeing how many pebbles he could pick up off the bottom without coming up for a breath. When he ran out of games to play, he hoisted himself up out of the water and climbed onto a large, flat rock where he lay on his back with his arms folded beneath his head to bask in the sun and dry off. He closed his mind to all thought and just enjoyed the feeling of the sun on his skin. When he was sufficiently dry, he dressed himself, and set out toward the palace, reluctantly leaving his place of refuge behind.

By the time he finally reached his quarters, the sun had set and a few stars were visible in the indigo sky. He lit only a few of the candles, preferring to make use of the moonlight when it rose. He decided to open a bottle wine; one of several his father gave him on his last visit. While it was not of the Dorwinion variety - the last of the supply had been put to good use during that visit - but it was a close comparison and almost just as potent.

Pouring the fragrant liquid in a goblet, he took it out on the balcony and stretched out on the chaise - the perfect end to a relaxing afternoon. He watched the stars gathering in the night sky, shimmering pinpoints of light like jewels. As he sipped his wine, he spotted the walking sticks he had been carving for Jordan leaning up against the wall. It had occurred to him that having one for each hand would give her more stability, so he started making a second set, taking greater care with detail this time. The lady was now at the forefront of his thoughts again. He sighed. Did it really matter where she is from or how she came to be here? He supposed not. She was here and she needed him.

Eowyn came to visit Jordan in the evening as promised, this time with what looked like an armful of multi-colored fabric.

"I have brought you some gowns." She announced cheerfully as she draped them over the chair. I know yours was ruined. I could only guess at your size, although I think they will fit well enough. Would you like to try them on?"

"Thank you, but no. Maybe some other time."

"Oh." She sounded disappointed. "Are you certain? I thought perhaps if you possessed something proper to wear, you may feel more at ease about venturing out of your quarters."

The last thing Jordan wanted to do was put on an uncomfortable gown, but she tried to be polite. "Yeah. I'm actually pretty tired. They look lovely, though. Thank you."

"All right. I will just put them in the wardrobe for you. Oh, you must promise, though, to come see the garden when you have recovered," she pleaded, "and Faramir is very eager to meet you."

"Okay, I will." Part of her wished she could.

As days turned into weeks, Jordan grew increasingly bored and restless; sinking deeper into depression. She had studied every knot in the wood beams crisscrossing the ceiling and counted every crack in the rock walls. She had read every book that Eowyn had brought so far whether they interested her or not. Her only travels consistent of dragging herself to the next room to bathe or relieve herself and back again; never leaving her quarters. The wound continued to heal and scar over but her broken spirit did not. She had done the only thing she knew how to do with her pain; she locked it away, refusing to feel and she became as one already dead, only trapped in living flesh.

Every morning Legolas would visit, encouraging her to at least make an effort to walk, and every time she refused. He would attempt to make light conversation and she would reply in her usual despondent manner. Then he would wish her good day and leave. He was never insistent nor did he get angry or upset; rather he adopted her indifference and wore it like a mask but underneath, her continual rejection hurt him deeply. Eowyn came by usually in the evenings bringing her more books to read or sharing a brief history about herself or her family. She never stayed long, though. In the beginning, she looked forward to Eowyn's visits, but they quickly became a source of anxiety rather than enjoyment for Jordan, who was afraid Eowyn would start asking too many questions about her background. Though she tried to hide it to spare Eowyn's feelings, her dwindling enthusiasm showed and Eowyn's visits became less frequent.

Finally, a morning came when he just could not bear the thought of visiting her again. The same questions asked; the same dismissals. She was completely void of all emotion, living and breathing but otherwise dead. He was so wearied by her unwillingness to help herself or to let others do for her and discouraged by her refusal to see that she could still lead a fruitful life. This could not go on any longer, but what else could he do? Just give up on her? Leave her lying in her quarters and go on about his business as if she didn't exist? He wouldn't be able to live with himself. If something did not change soon, he would go mad…and she would become unreachable. He made up his mind - He would be kind but firm but he would drag her out of that room if he had to.

With unwavering determination, he walked straight into her quarters, without bothering to knock. She was reclining in bed, staring out the window. She had retreated so far into the quagmire of her mind, she didn't even startle at his sudden intrusion.

"Come. It is time to start learning how to use this." He said, taking the walking stick from the corner and holding it up. "You need to practice." He said firmly.

"You know I can't." She responded in her usual lifeless tone.

"You do not know that. You have never tried. Sit up; I will help you."

"Legolas, we've been through this before. It won't help. I can't walk." She turned away from him, facing the wall.

"You cannot or you will not?" He retorted, goading her to react; make her angry, anything. At least anger was something, anger was an emotion.

She whipped around. "What do you mean by that?"

"I mean that perhaps you _are_ able to get up and walk but you choose to hide yourself away in this room; a prisoner of your _own_ making. I think you enjoy pitying yourself."

"How dare you!" Her tone dark and seething. "Do you think I like lying in this bed day in and day out? Having to crawl across the floor like an animal to relieve myself? Do you know what that is like?"

"That is by your choice alone." He said coolly.

"Why are you doing this to me?!"

"Are you angry?"

"What kind of question is that?! You're basically accusing me of lying! Of course I'm angry!" She yelled, pounding her fist into the bed for emphasis.

"Good! At least I know there is a living being capable of feeling somewhere in there!" He shouted back.

"Ooh!" She growled and whipped a pillow at him. "Get…out!" She screamed, her pitch rising to a frenzy.

"No! Not this time. You are going to leave that bed, get out of this room, and start living your life again!" And with that, he scooped her up effortlessly in his arms and headed towards the door.

"Legolas! Put me down!" She screamed; kicking the air, and while one arm was pinned to his chest, she pummeled his shoulder with her other fist.

"Stop this at once or I shall drop you." He warned.

He walked quickly, navigating the maze of stone-walled corridors. As there were no windows here, wrought iron candle sconces were fashioned to the walls every few feet to light the way.

"Where are you taking me?" The annoyance still obvious in her voice, but at least she had stopped struggling. He did not respond nor slow his pace but continued up a flight of stairs and down a few more corridors until they reached an arched wooden door. Without faltering, he supported her entirely with one arm as he opened the door with the other. Once inside the room, she looked around. It was much larger than the room she was in; with an oversized stone fireplace and double doors that opened out onto a large balcony. He crossed the room, walking out to the edge of the balcony and turned so she could look outward.

"There!" He pointed off into the distance. "There is the world! It stirs; it is alive just as you and I are alive; and it is waiting!" He proclaimed, his words charged with emotion.

There were no words to describe the sheer magnitude of beauty that she beheld. The palace, she could now tell, sat atop a hill. The balcony on which she stood was higher still. From this vantage point, she looked down over rolling forested hills as far as the eye could see. Wisps of morning fog still lingered in the dales and valleys. The bright blue sky was infused with hues of pink and gold. The silver rays of pale morning sunlight shone through the tops of the trees, not yet rising above them; weaving through the branches and illuminating the ground wherever they touched.

"It is time for you to stand." He set her down carefully but continued holding on to her arm for support and stand she did. He let go of her arm and she stood without faltering on her own two feet.

"Stay there. I shall return momentarily." He dashed back inside the room and disappeared. "Wait! Where are you going?" She called out. He reappeared carrying something long and skinny in his hand. She realized what he was carrying were identical wooden poles and he held them out, one in each hand. Each had been intricately hand-carved with a design of branches and leaves along the length but what surprised her most was that each had a hand grip at a ninety-degree angle from the top. The likeness to a walking cane from her world was remarkable. She had no choice but to take them from him. She held them by the hand grip and tested her weight on them. Unbelievably, they were the perfect height. He stepped back about ten paces, facing her.

"Walk to me."

Hesitantly, she took small, wobbly steps using the canes for support and balance. With each step, the wall that she had worked so hard to build around her crumbled, piece by piece. She began to let go of all of the sadness, anger and frustration that she had pushed deep down inside and refused to acknowledge. She stopped within arms length of Legolas who was beaming with pride at her small victory. She hung her head in remorse and sobbed.

"This whole time, you never lost hope; always believing that I could overcome this, but I did not. I refused to see it. I treated you terribly and I pushed you away and I am so sorry," she said through her sobs, "Legolas, I know I hurt you…please, _please_ forgive me."

He took a tentative step toward her closing the distance between them, wrapped his arms around her, and pulled her in close. She wrapped her arms around him as well and laid her head on his chest as the tears continued to fall. Almost a head taller than she, he rested his chin on the top of her head. He closed his eyes and exhaled heavily; relief washing over him. For the first time since they had met, he finally felt it was acceptable to touch her in this manner and to his delight, she welcomed it. She was warm and alive and finally free of the bonds of despair which filled Legolas with the greatest sense of fulfillment and joy; such he had not felt in many long years.

"There is nothing to forgive, my lady." He said softly. She clung to him tighter to express her gratefulness. They stayed locked in their embrace for some time, both reluctant to let go. It was Legolas who finally released her and they stood side by side looking out over the expanse. Legolas smiled watching the child-like emotions play across her face as she reveled in the sight.

"What do you think?"

"It's so beautiful!"

He helped her over to a nearby bench to rest. He seated himself next to her facing her side; one leg tucked up underneath him and his elbow leaning on the balcony railing, propping his head up with his hand.

"Where did you get these?" Jordan asked, gesturing to the canes.

"I carved them from some fallen tree limbs I came across in the forest."

"You made them?" She said with a look of amazement.

"Aye, I did."

"You did an incredible job. Thank you, Legolas. Though," she paused, the smile fading from her face, "I have nothing to give you in return."

"I ask for nothing more than your camaraderie and companionship." He smiled, his crystal blue eyes glimmering against the rising sun.

"I can do that."

Something inside told her that he desired more than just friendship, but she kept it to herself. In true Jordan Blakely fashion, she would burn that bridge when she came to it.

92


	12. Lady of the Stars

Disclaimer: All characters and places mentioned are the sole property of Cyan, Inc., J.R.R. Tolkien, or Peter Jackson/New Line Cinema. This is strictly for entertainment purposes and not based on fact. I do not profit from this story in any way.

A.N: I highly recommend visting this chapter at elvenladyofithilien dot com to listen to the song that goes along with the end.

**Chapter 10 - Lady of the Stars**

Jordan felt like a weight had been lifted from her shoulders. Legolas knew the truth. She could talk with him openly; unafraid of revealing too much or what he might ask. She still faced the challenge of coping with her disability but aided by Legolas' support and encouragement, she could look upon it now with acceptance and with a sense of optimism about her recovery and her future here in Middle Earth. She considered herself fortunate to have found such a friend as he. Others would have abandoned her long ago and this thought suddenly elicited a pang of guilt. She did not deserve his friendship after the way she had treated him. As Jordan looked out over the breathtaking vista, Legolas was content to gaze upon her, until he noticed a shadow cross her features. He knew its cause and did not hesitate to speak on it.

"I know what it is you are thinking. There is no need to feel guilt over what has transpired thus far; nor should you relive the past, but rather rejoice in the future."

"How did you know that?"

"I could sense it as well as see it in your mannerisms."

"Was it that obvious?" She asked, a little dismayed. She had always thought herself adept at concealing the demons that haunted her; feelings of doubt, unworthiness, and inadequacy.

"To the unsuspecting eye, no. Elves are just more perceptive of the subtle physical changes associated with differing emotions."

"Such as?"

He shifted position slightly, leaning in towards her. Taking the opportunity to demonstrate using physical contact as she did, he put his fingers underneath her chin and delicately traced the corner of her mouth with his thumb, "Such as…the corners of your mouth turned down ever so faintly," he touched his index finger to the space between her eye and temple. Her eyelashes fluttered and she closed her eyes, allowing for just a moment to take pleasure in his touch, "your eyes shifted slightly downward," he curled his fingers beneath her jaw and using his thumb, he lightly traced over one eyebrow; "your brow furrowed slightly," his hand linger for a moment, then he let it come to rest on his thigh. She opened her eyes and shook off the feeling created by his gentle touch, "and your breathing slowed for a moment; by this I could tell your thoughts had changed to ones of darker times."

She could not help but smile shyly. "I can't hide anything from you, can I?"

"All things can be hidden, if they are carefully guarded but I have learned that most mortals wear their emotions more freely."

"And elves do not?"

"As I said before, elves are more attuned physically and emotionally, but are better practiced at how and when they express it."

Both Legolas and Jordan heard the unmistakable rumbling of her stomach.

"Now by that, I can tell that you are hungry." He grinned.

She hid her face in her hands for a moment, completely mortified. Then, resting her chin on her fist, she smiled back at him despite her obvious embarrassment. "Wow. You _are_ perceptive." She said in jest.

"Would you like for me to have breakfast sent here? We could dine on the balcony."

Her face lit up at the suggestion. "Could we? That would be wonderful!"

"Of course. It will be a celebratory breakfast for your achievement. Is there anything in particular you would like?"

"Bacon? I would love some bacon!" 'Please tell me they know what bacon is here.' "And some potatoes? Fruit? Oh, just bring everything!"

He laughed. "If your height did not suggest otherwise, I would say you were a Hobbit!"

She laughed with him, familiar with the Hobbit's love of food and drink from her reading.

"Will you be alright here alone?"

"I'll be fine. I'm not likely to wander off too far." She said, gesturing to the canes.

"Then I shall return forthwith." He said with a bow.

Once he had left the room, she caressed her own cheek with her hand and sighed, remembering the feel of his fingers. How easy it was to be swayed by his beauty and magnanimity. She would have to work harder to fight off the intoxicating effects. The last thing she needed was to allow herself to develop feelings for him and be drawn in to a relationship draped in the illusion of adoration and devotion only to be revealed as empty promises and meaningless sex. She would come to love him; then he would leave her…to drown in the despair of unrequited love and the knowledge that she had been fooled once more. No. She would not put herself through that again.She did not doubt her capability to love someone, only their ability to love her in return. Love was fickle; easily washed away by the trials of everyday life. _True _love didn't exist anymore.

Her musings were cut short by the sound of Legolas' return. From where she sat, she could not see Legolas but heard him bustling about the quarters; wooden cabinets opening and closing; the clink of silver. With her eyes fixed on the balcony door, she eagerly waited for him to come out, but when he finally did, he had no food, rather only a bottle of wine and two goblets. Jordan couldn't hide her disappointment. "What happened? Did the kitchen run out of food?"

Laughing, he said, "No, but it could not be carried single-handedly. It will be here momentarily."

Her mouth dropped open. "How much food are you having brought up? If you haven't noticed, we are only two people."

"Oh, I invited a few guests to help celebrate." He said elusively, smiling to himself as he turned away from her, and busied himself with opening the bottle. "Wine?" He asked, turning back toward her and handing her a goblet.

"Yes, thank you," she replied, accepting the goblet, "but don't change the subject. Who?"

He just smiled and set about moving the chaise and small table off to the side of the balcony, clearing a space in the middle. Jordan sipped her wine and watched curiously as Legolas disappeared inside again and reappeared dragging a large wooden table to the center of the balcony.

"You don't have to go through all this trouble, Legolas." She protested. "I am perfectly content to sit right where I am and eat."

"It is no hardship, I can assure you. Besides, it has been far too long since I have enjoyed a proper meal in the company of friends." He said and ducked back inside. What she didn't know was a 'proper meal in the company of friends' to Legolas meant a veritable feast and he, as all elves, could not pass up an opportunity for feasting and merriment even on a small scale.

Jordan heard a knock and the creak of wood as the heavy front door was opened. She assumed this was one of Legolas' mystery guests and waited until they came into full view but instead Legolas rushed out, beckoning with his hand, urging her to stand up.

"Come. Your handmaiden is here to assist you in readying yourself."

"I have a handmaiden?" She asked, more to herself than anything as she steadied herself with the canes and stood up.

"What? Yes. She will help you dress. Come. She is waiting." He said excitedly.

Jordan slowly walked back into the great room aided by the canes, with Legolas by her side in case she stumbled.

"Why do I need to dress?" She asked, still somewhat confused.

"You do not wish to be seen in naught but your sleeping gown, do you?"

Looking down at herself, she groaned. Now it all made sense. Legolas had practically yanked her out of bed earlier and she had not the time to put anything else on. Worse still, she had not thought to protest her attire but instead sat there on the balcony holding a conversation with a beautiful elf in what would probably be considered an immodest article of clothing in mixed company. She blushed from head to toe. If she could have dug a hole and climbed inside herself out of sheer embarrassment, she would have. Legolas found her reaction to this supposed impropriety quite amusing as he cared not what she wore.

There was no time for Jordan to dwell on it as the young woman with a gown draped over her arm whisked her off to the bathing chambers. 'Well, at least he was considerate enough to make sure I had something to wear.' She thought.

"My name is Amaranthea but you can call me Thea; most people do. Amaranthea takes a long time to say, I find." The young handmaiden chattered.

"I'm Jordan." She replied.

Thea said nothing further and looked at Jordan as if she were waiting for her to do something. Jordan stared back at her nervously, unsure of what was expected of her.

"You need to take that off, if I am to get this gown on you." She said finally, motioning to Jordan's sleeping gown.

"Oh…sorry." 'That's what she was waiting for.' Resting her weight on her good leg, she could set the canes aside and free her hands to pull the sleeping gown over her head. She handed it to Thea who folded it up and set it on a small stool in the corner. Jordan felt a little odd undressing in front of a complete stranger but did what was asked of her. Thea slipped the gown over Jordan's arms and head and let the layered skirt fall around her to the ground, adjusting it here and there. The gown was quite beautiful and exquisitely detailed. It was pale blue in color with silver embroidery on the sleeves and bodice similar to a Celtic knot pattern. The sleeves were snug on the upper arm but widened out to a bell shape at the mid forearm with silver ribbon trim on the cuffs. The skirt was lined giving it a fuller appearance but the bodice and waistline were rather tight creating a slimming effect. The bodice had a square neckline with the same ribbon trim as on the cuffs; fairly modest, but revealing enough to show just a little of what God had graced her with on top. It laced up the back in the fashion of a corset which Thea proceeded to tighten with all her might, eliciting a gasp from Jordan as the air was forced out of her lungs. Now she understood why she needed help in dressing. There was no way she would have been able to get into this dress and lace it up alone. Once she was fully trussed into the thing; although the material was somewhat scratchy and constricting, she felt like a fairytale princess. She wished she could twirl around so that the skirt billowed out. Thea looked her up and down, satisfied with her work, then she said, "Now, we must do something with your hair!"

Jordan suddenly heard a great commotion and many voices through the door that separated the bathing chamber from the great room.

"What is going on out there?"

"Breakfast has arrived I would imagine." The handmaiden replied nonchalantly, shrugging her shoulders.

Thea made Jordan sit on a small bench so that she could brush her hair out. She separated the top half and divided into two sections; her deft fingers quickly braiding the hair on each side and securing the braids with small strips of leather. Jordan meanwhile was growing impatient under the handmaiden's ministrations. The commotion had ceased outside and she was anxious to see what was going on. Thea wove the braids together at the back of Jordan's head into an intricate knot and secured it with silver pins, leaving the rest to hang loose down her back.

"There." Thea said patting Jordan's shoulders. "Oh! You cannot forget these!" She handed Jordan some slippers that matched the dress. Jordan put them on while she was still seated on the bench. They were a little large but they would have to do. She handed Jordan's canes back to her. "Now, let me see you."

Jordan stood up and turned around to face her. Thea stepped back to take in her overall appearance. She clasped her hands together.

"Oh! You look very lovely. I think that color suits you well. Legolas will be very pleased." She paused for a moment; then added, "If I may say so, you are so fortunate to have gained his affections…" She was practically gushing and she had a far-away, dreamy look in her eye. "There are many women in the palace that fancy him and they will all be dismayed to find he is no longer eligible."

'She must be one of them.' She laughed to herself. Then she realized what Thea was implying. Jordan tried to correct her but she went on talking.

"No. We're not…"

"Oh, listen to me go on about it! Sometimes I don't know when to stop!" She babbled as picked up the hairbrush and the rest of the hair ties and put them back in her apron.

"Nevermind." Jordan groaned.

Chattering on about how she talked too much, Thea paid no mind to what Jordan trying to say as she tidied up the bathing chamber. Finally she looked up and saw that Jordan was still standing there.

"Go!" She said excitedly and motioned her out the door. "Your prince is waiting for you!"

'Prince? As in the expression 'prince charming' or a real prince?' She decided not to ask or she'd never get out of there. It was curious though. Could Legolas be a prince? He certainly had a dignified way about him but he was also humble as well. Whether he was royalty or not was hard to say.

Upon exiting the bathing chamber, she saw that the great room was empty. As she slowly made her way out to the balcony, she began to get nervous. Who were Legolas' guests? Would the manner in which she walked make them uncomfortable? She did not have to wait long as they came into view and her to them.

Seated to one side of the table was Eowyn and next to her, a man she assumed was Faramir; the other side, Legolas and an empty chair. All eyes were on her as she approached the table and she stopped a few feet from it, unsure of herself. Legolas and Faramir stood up as was the custom when a lady is to be seated, but Eowyn, as this was the first time she had seen her out of bed and walking since her injury, stood as well in honor of Jordan's achievement. She was the first to go to Jordan and she gave her a gentle hug taking care not to cause Jordan to lose her balance.

"Look at you!" She beamed. "You are radiant!" Sweeping her arm out to the man behind her, she said, "May I introduce my husband, Faramir." Moving to stand beside his wife, he took Jordan's hand in both of his.

"I am pleased to finally make your acquaintance. Eowyn has told me much about you."

"I am pleased to meet you as well, Prince Faramir."

"You may call me Faramir, if you wish."

Never before had she felt so welcomed and cherished. Legolas neither spoke nor moved but only watched. He was struck by her transformation. Since their first ill-fated meeting, he had only seen her clothed in the tattered remnants of a dress and then a sleeping gown and never had he thought she looked more beautiful than this moment. Legolas moved in, taking her by the elbow to guide her to the empty chair next to his.

"You look very beautiful." He whispered to her. Jordan could not help but blush at this. Eowyn could not hear what Legolas whispered as it was beyond earshot of the rest of the company, but the scene did not go unnoticed. She was of the mindset that something was growing between these two; however unaware they were.

The entire party sat at once and Jordan now noticed the once bare table was lavishly set and abundant in all manners of food and drink. Each one helped themselves to what was laid out on the table and ate heartily while the laughter as well as the wine flowed freely. Tales of youth, adventure, and great deeds were shared. Although Jordan had no such tale that could be told, she enjoyed the telling of each one and felt she had a better understanding of the people she now looked upon as friends.

Then the inevitable happened. Faramir said, "Where is your homeland, Lady Jordan?"

Jordan looked at Legolas with panic in her eyes. He simply nodded, conveying to her they could be trusted to know the truth. Underneath the table, he reached for her hand and pulled it towards him, intertwining his fingers with hers, to lend support. She took a deep breath and began the story of how she came to be in Middle Earth. Legolas watched as the eyes of his friends grew wide at the telling of her tale.

Suddenly, Faramir's expression turned to from disbelief to revelation. "Wait! I remember now! I heard a similar story of long ago when I was just a boy, during the time of the Last Alliance I think it was, and the story was thus: Travelers from a distant land came once to Minas Tirith seeking shelter and in their possession was a book with strange writing; a door to the stars and worlds beyond, they said. They bid the book be kept hidden until a time when one will come to call upon it again. Then the travelers vanished, leaving the book behind. It was said that they traveled back to the stars from whence they came and were never seen again. I cannot remember it in it's entirety but I believe this is the book of which you speak and I believe _you_ are the one whose coming was foretold."

"I do think we speak of the same book, Faramir, but there is no prophesy to be fulfilled. It was not me they spoke of. I heard the story too. The travelers were from my world; a D'ni named Tolkien and his followers. He wrote the book that linked your world to mine. I believe he was speaking about himself as he intended to return to Middle Earth and wanted to ensure the book would be kept safe as it was his only means to get back home. But things did not go as he planned and he never saw Middle Earth again. There was civil unrest in D'ni and his life was in danger. He spoke about an unseen evil and the possibility of war here in Middle Earth, so he was forced to flee to another age altogether." She went on to tell them the story of Tolkien's involvement with the Guild of Writers, the fall of D'ni, and how it was thought the link had been destroyed. After she had finished, she asked Faramir, "Do you know if the book is still kept at Minas Tirith?"

"I cannot say. All this time, I thought it was a mere story told to lull young ones to sleep - the story of the people of the stars, as it was known."

Eowyn finally spoke for the first time since this discussion started. "Will you go to Minas Tirith then and seek out this book?"

"It is my wish, yes." Jordan replied.

"And if you find it, what then?" Faramir asked. "Will you leave Middle Earth?"

Legolas felt a stab of uneasiness. He once suggested she return to her homeland but he had assumed it was somewhere in Middle Earth. The though of her leaving Middle Earth, never to return, did not sit well with him for reasons he could not explain. He was glad he had let her hand go awhile back, so that she did not notice this change in him. He held his breath, awaiting her answer.

"I do not know. At one time I was sure I wanted to go home but now I am not. Once I find the book, if it is there to be found, I will make my decision then."

"In the meantime, it seems you are in need of a new home. I extend the invitation to stay in Emyn Arnen for as long as you desire. I will see to it that you are moved to more suitable quarters."

"Thank you, Faramir. I can't say how much that means to me. You _all_ have been so kind and giving." She was speaking to all of them, but her gaze settled on Legolas and lingered there for a time. Turning to Eowyn, she said, "Eowyn, I feel I must apologize to you. I'm sure it seemed I did not appreciate your company while I was ill, but in truth, I did. I was just afraid…afraid you would ask questions about my background that, at the time, I could not answer."

"No apology is needed. You were ill with grief and your heart was burdened with this terrible secret. Let us speak of it no more." Eowyn replied with a kind smile. "Can you tell us what your world is like? Is it so different from this one?" The silver trays of food had practically been picked clean but there was still at least half a bottle of wine left.

"I will tell you, if someone will pour me another glass of wine." She said, laughing. Legolas refilled her glass as all were eager to hear.

"Some things you will not understand, but I will try to explain them the simplest way I can. Legolas, do you have a piece of paper and ink?"

"Aye. I will get them for you."

As he left the table, Jordan's eyes followed him and she continued to gaze in that direction even after he disappeared inside; unaware that this action, although subtle, was not missed by those still present at the table.

"You have feelings for him." Eowyn stated her observation as if it were fact. Her words startled Jordan and she nearly jumped out of her chair, mostly out of embarrassment because she knew she had been caught staring.

"No. I…he…I've just never seen an Elf before." She stuttered.

"Never?" She asked incredulously.

"Never. There are no Elves in my world, or Dwarves or Hobbits for that matter; only the race of Men," then she added, "and the D'ni, but they do not look any different from anyone else."

"You have started without me." Legolas lamented as he returned to the table.

Jordan reached out and put her hand on his arm as he sat down. "You have not missed anything." Jordan eyes met with Eowyn's and she quickly removed her hand and took up her wine glass. All eyes were on her now and the paper and ink before her.

"My world was very similar to yours about 500 years ago," She began, "and although the land looks the same in many places; like the forests, rivers, and mountains, there have been many technological advances that now sets them apart. There is running water to every home and building accessible with a simple turn of a handle. The water is carried in and out of your home through hollow metal tubes called pipes. They are usually buried underground, so you do not see them. One of the major advances was electricity. I can't explain to you how it works or what it is made of; it would be beyond comprehension.

There are countless numbers of machines and devices that are powered from electricity. One very important device is the light bulb." She drew a light bulb on the paper; then she drew a lamp to show its use. "It is made of glass and it is like the flame inside a lantern, but it is not flame and its light is brighter. Everyone has these in their home and with just the flick of a switch on the wall, there is enough light to turn night into day." This elicited murmurs of astonishment. "A lesser one but still important is the refrigerator. It is a box made of metal and it keeps food cold, so it doesn't spoil so quickly."

"What is life like there? How do you spend your time?" Eowyn asked.

"Most people live in large cities with very tall buildings, sometimes called 'skyscrapers' because they are so tall, it looks like they touch the sky." She drew a city skyline with building of various heights and shapes. "Life is fast-paced. Most everyone goes to work at least five days out of the week, if not more. After work, there are chores around the home to be done; cleaning, getting food, washing clothes. In the evenings, those with families spend time together; those without, might get together with friends or just relax at home."

"I am not sure I understand your usage of the word 'work'." Faramir stated.

"It is a general term for a place where one performs a skill or a trade. It can also refer to the skill or trade itself. Sometimes it's also called a job. My job, obviously, is healer, but in my world, we are called doctors or physicians. I worked at a hospital which is where the sick and injured go; like your healing wing, only much larger. We no longer use horses for transportation. We now have what is called a 'car'. They are usually made of metal with wheels like a cart. In a car, one can travel much faster than the fastest horse; faster than you could imagine." This, too, evoked murmurs of wonderment. She drew the best representation of a car she could; then she drew one with the door open to show the details inside. "See? The driver sits here." She pointed to the front seat. "This wheel here is called a 'steering wheel'. It controls where the cars goes; left or right. There are two pedals on the floor; one to make it go faster and one to make it stop."

"Did you have one of these?" Legolas asked, pointing to the drawing.

"Yes. Most everyone does."

"I think it would be frightening to travel that fast." Eowyn said.

Faramir laughed. "You? Afraid of going fast? I have seen how you ride!"

"Well, yes, but she said 'faster that the fastest horse'." She argued.

As they continued to banter back and fourth, Legolas asked. "How were you trained to become a doctor?"

"I went to medical school."

Eowyn's interest was perked and she ceased her argument with Faramir. "What is 'medical school'?" She inquired.

"It is a school that specializes in training doctors, or healers as you call them."

"Your world certainly does seem much different that ours. It must be hard to adjust to such a change." Eowyn remarked.

"It has been difficult, but having good friends makes it easier to bear." Jordan said with a grateful smile.

To her relief, they were not judgmental or suspicious but rather accepting and curious about her and her world. The conversation then turned to lighter subjects as the party wound down and the wine was finished off.

"Legolas, I thank you for this lovely gathering but I regret I must take my leave. The sun is high and the day grows late; I have business that needs attending to." Turning to Jordan, he said, "You have been most pleasurable company, Lady of the Stars. I look forward to hearing more about your homeworld."

"I regret I must leave as well. Ioreth will be expecting me soon. I am studying to become a healer." Eowyn added.

"That is wonderful, Eowyn. We will be seeing a lot of each other, then, as Ioreth has asked that I instruct her on the methods of healing used in my world."

"Does she know your secret?"

"No. But I doubt I can keep it that way for long. She will start to wonder where I have gained my knowledge."

"Indeed, though you needn't worry it escaping my lips. Farewell to you both."

Faramir stood and offered Eowyn his arm. "Farewell." He said with a bow and arm-in-arm, they left together.

Finally, Legolas and Jordan were alone, once more.

"Thank you for today, Legolas. I consider myself very fortunate to have a friend like you; and now Faramir and Eowyn, too."

"You are happy, then?"

"Yes. I am." She replied, somewhat surprised at this realization.

"Good. It suits you far better than despair."

"What about you? Are you happy?"

He smiled. "A feast for breakfast and wine before noon in the company of friends? For what more could I ask?" She thought she saw a flash of something in Legolas' eyes; something distant and longing; something that told her he was not being completely forthcoming; but it was gone just as quick as it appeared. Unlike herself who apparently could hide nothing from the Elf, there was an untouchable core within him, guarding his deepest secrets and desires that none could penetrate.

"You have not told me yet, whose quarters we are in. I am guessing they are yours?"

"Yes."

"How is it that an Elf lives in the palace of Men?"

"This is not my true home. I have taken it upon myself to design the gardens for Faramir and Eowyn in honor of the bravery and self-sacrifice they displayed during the war and I stay here until my task is done."

"Eowyn fought in the war?"

"Indeed. She went in secret, dressed as a soldier and slayed the Witch-King for he cut down her uncle, Théoden, who was like a father to her."

"How very sad. It is hard to imagine Eowyn fighting in a battle. She seems so delicate."

"Indeed; but do not underestimate her nor the ability to find great courage and strength when something, or someone, you love is at stake; even in the smallest, most unassuming of persons."

"I don't think I would ever be able to do such a thing."

"You may surprise yourself; but let us hope you need never find out."

"Where is your home then, if not here?"

"Do you see that hill there?" He said, pointing off into the distance.

"Yes." Jordan answered.

"Now, do you see the one behind it, slightly to the east?"

"Yes."

"My home lies in the valley on the other side, about a half a day's ride from here."

"A grander place than this, is it?" She said, making a wide sweeping gesture with her arms.

"No. Modest by mortal standards I would suppose, but far more to my liking."

"What is it like?"

"It is a beautiful land tucked away in the deep forest of tall trees; hidden to those who have not been shown the way. A small river runs through fed by an underground spring high in the mountains. There are dwellings on the ground, but most of the Elves reside in flets amongst the trees, adhering to the old tradition." He omitted the fact that he himself settled the colony and was its lord, fearing it would make her uncomfortable.

"Flets?"

"Wooden platforms set amongst the branches of trees. Originally, they served as lookouts, but eventually they were used for dwellings as well. The Elves found that in the shelter of the trees, high off the ground, it was easier to defend oneself against an attack."

For some reason, the thought of an Elf living in a tree did not surprise her.

"It sounds amazing." She sighed, sleepy from overindulging in food and wine, and she leaned her head back against the railing and closed her eyes, using his description and her imagination to visualize it.

"Lady Jordan?"

"Hmm?" She replied automatically, with her eyes still closed. Then she realized someone had been speaking to her. "What?" She opened her eyes and sat up straight again. "Oh, I'm sorry Legolas. I don't mean to fall asleep; I'm just so full and I think I've had a little too much wine."

"There is no need to apologize. Come inside and rest." Legolas stood and held out his hand. She took it and he pulled her to her feet. "I regret I must leave for a few hours to meet with one of my advisors but you may make use of my quarters until I return."

"Are you sure you don't mind?"

"No, I do not mind. Come. I will help you get situated."

Legolas handed Jordan her canes and helped her inside and over to the spacious bed.

"Already you are getting stronger and better balanced. Soon I think you will only need one."

"It might take a lot of practice, but I am willing to try."

"And I am willing to help you."

He arranged the pillows and motioned for her to lie down. The midday sun now warmed the room, so she was content to lie on her side atop of the silken coverlet. Legolas, feeling emboldened, reached out with his hand and lightly caressed the crown of her head like one would a child, hoping she would not take offense. She simply smiled and closed her eyes.

"Sleep well, my lady." He whispered and slipped out the door without a sound.

After Legolas' meeting, he returned to his quarters to find Jordan where he had left her. She did not stir at the creak of the heavy wooden door as he entered. He moved silently about the room, tidying up, while occasionally glancing at Jordan to see if she was yet aware of his presence. The outcome of his meeting with Cailethas had left him frustrated. The negotiations with the Dwarves for the supply of stones traced with ithildin Legolas desired for the tops of the raised beds in the garden had stalled. The Dwarves had increased their price. Now there was need for someone to go negotiate in person and there were none who were willing to have dealings with the Dwarves as most Elves still harbored distaste for them. Cailethas was insistent that Legolas simply forego the stone's use but Legolas would not hear of it. It looked like Legolas would have to go himself to conclude the negotiations.

He took down a small carved wooden chest off of a high shelf. Opening it, he took out the ornate glass bottle that contained miruvor, and small matching glass. He set them on the table next to his chair, and sat down with a sigh. There was something else. Something else bothered him but he could not place it. He looked over at Jordan's sleeping form occupying his bed. It was her. He could not deny there was a strange attraction to her. She was so different from any _ellith_ or woman he had ever met. Thought she held no power, she had an outerworldly presence not unlike the Maiar with her knowledge of things far beyond his comprehension. He knew it was unwise to become involved with her and yet he was still drawn to her. Part mortal, part D'ni; she would live much longer than is typical, but eventually her life would come to an end, resulting in devastating heartbreak. He had pleaded the Valar to send him a mate and here she appears from the stars. Mere coincidence or was this the grace of the Valar bestowed upon him? How would he know? If this was indeed the work of the Valar, he did not understand their choice. He imagined an _ellith_ as his mate and together they would sail to the Undying Lands when their time in Middle Earth was over. Why would the Valar wish him such heartbreak? Had he not faithfully served their will in risking his immortal life for the good of Middle Earth? Would he anger them by refusing to acknowledge their gift? Perhaps _she_ did not want an Elf, an immortal being, for a mate.

He groaned inwardly and held his head in his hands. His mind was not used to such conflicting thoughts and it wearied him. He hoped the answers would reveal themselves soon. Pouring the miruvor into the small glass, he drank down the fragrant liquor all at once and felt somewhat renewed.

Jordan awoke slowly, unsure of her whereabouts at first. The bed in which she lay was comfortable; more so than her own. There was the faint scent of a cool green forest after a spring rain; the scent that was unmistakably Legolas'. She inhaled the scent of him deeply. Now she remembered. She fell asleep in Legolas' bed. She stretched out languidly on the bed, letting her senses gradually return to her. Finally, she took a look around the room and was startled to find Legolas sitting in a nearby chair, watching over her as she slept. She found it a little unnerving but these were _his_ quarters after all. She could not expect him to stay away.

"Hello." She said sleepily.

"Hello, my lady. I trust you slept well?"

"Too well. My own quarters dim in comparison."

Legolas smiled at this subtle admission. He knew she would never ask outright to be given special consideration. "Faramir said you would be moved to more suitable quarters and he is always a man of his word."

"I do not doubt it. How long have I been asleep?"

"A few hours. It is just before evening meal."

"I should get back to my quarters. Thank you for letting me rest here." She sat up and swung her legs around to sit on the edge of the bed but the pain in her head caused her to hold her head in her hands and groan.

"What ails you my lady?" Legolas asked with a look of concern.

"Oh, my head!" She groaned again. "Now I _know_ I had too much wine."

"Here, try some of this." He poured some miruvor into the tiny glass and handed it to her.

"What is it?" She looked skeptically at the clear liquid.

"It is miruvor, an Elvish cordial. It will strengthen and revive you."

She took a tentative sip. It was rather sweet and it felt warm going down her throat. She finished it and handed the glass back to Legolas. "Oh my goodness!" She felt amazing. Her head no longer hurt and she felt like she had just gotten the best sleep of her life. "That's amazing!"

Legolas smiled. "Is that better?"

"Yes. I feel great. I can't believe it."

"Would you allow me to escort you back to your quarters? Though you may feel restored, the stairs could prove quite treacherous."

She smiled back at him and their eyes met. "Yes, I would like that."

Back in her quarters, she tidied up a bit, putting the books laying on the side table back on the shelf and lit the candles about the room as it would be dark soon. Maeve brought her dinner of roast chicken and vegetables, a goblet of wine and had a full pitcher of water that she set on the cabinet by the door.

"Thank you, Maeve."

"You are welcome, miss."

Surprisingly, she was hungry again, despite this morning's feast. She sat in the chair and ate her supper from her lap. She let the wine be, this time; the mere thought of it churned her stomach. When she had finished, she set the tray aside and went to find a book to read from the bookshelf. After looking through several as most did not have titles on the spines, she found an unassuming, rather ratty looking book that had been pushed back behind two of the books. Inside, the title read 'The Tale of Beren and Lúthien'. 'Hmm.' she thought. She figured she'd give it a try and set it next to her bed. Extricating herself from the bindings of her gown proved most difficult but she managed to loosen the ties in the back enough to slide it off. She carefully hung in up in the wardrobe and slipped her sleeping gown on. She fell asleep reading of the fair Elf maiden Lúthien and Beren, the mortal that fell in love with her.

Jordan woke to a handful of servants entering her room and gathering her belongings. Confused at first, she then remembered Faramir had said he would move her to more suitable quarters. He must have made good on his promise. She selected a simple gown of sapphire velvet and slipped into the bathing chambers to dress. When she emerged, the servants had just gathered the last of her belongings; at this point, she did not have much.

"Come with us, we will show you to your new quarters." One of them said. Jordan grabbed 'The Tale of Beren and Lúthien' possessively and handed it to one of the servants.

"This goes too." She said.

With Jordan ambling along slowly behind them, the group made their way up several flights of stairs. Jordan was beginning to think this was a mistake. How was she going to navigate all these stairs? Going up was one thing, but coming down was another all together. Eventually arriving at an arched wooden door, the servants opened it and allowed her to walk through.

"Oh!" She exclaimed and covered her mouth with her hands. It was gorgeous. The enormous room was very similar to Legolas' with a large four poster bed, a stone fireplace, a sitting area, and double doors that opened to a balcony. Other than this, the one thing that particularly stood out was a large vanity table with a mirror, the first she had seen in Middle Earth, directly opposite of the bed. She rushed out to the balcony as the servants put her things away. Like Legolas', the balcony was high off the ground and the looked out over green, forested hills. One difference, however, was there was a snow-capped mountain range in the distance. Curiously, at its base, she saw a white tower set into the mountainside. As one of the servants came out onto the balcony, she questioned them.

"What is that, there?" She asked excitedly, pointing to the tower structure.

"Why, it's Minas Tirith, the White City."

"Oh! I did not realize we were so close."

The servant just looked at her strange and said, "Will there be anything else, miss?"

Jordan tore herself away from the view of Minas Tirith and turned to the servant.

"No, no, everything's fine. Thank you."

Once the servants had left, she reveled in her new surroundings. She felt like royalty. The room was richly appointed with hand carved furniture, tapestries decorating the walls, and hand-woven rugs to cover the stone floor which she imagined would be quite cold to the touch in winter. It was all very beautiful, but the balcony; the balcony was her favorite. There was a soft, velvet covered chaise lounge on which she could relax and read. There was no doubt she would put it to good use.

To Jordan's surprise, there was a knock at the door. It was Maeve bringing her breakfast. Jordan informed her that she would no longer require meals to be served to her in her quarters. From now on, she would be taking her meals in the dining hall. Maeve looked relieved to be rid of her extra duties, thanked her, and left. Jordan was now faced with a problem. She wanted to eat breakfast on the balcony, but Maeve had set the tray on the side table next to the bed. The use of her canes left no free hand to carry the tray. In order to accomplish her goal, she would have to forego the use of one. She practiced walking the length of her quarters and back before attempting to carry the tray. Although unsteady at first, she found after a few passes, she could walk rather confidently with just the one. It was a joyous realization and strange at the same time how having the use of one hand created such a feeling of freedom. Balancing the tray on her hip, she cautiously carried it out to the balcony and set it on the table. She celebrated her small victory that morning, basking in the warmth of the sun shining on the balcony that was hers alone and she was filled with a sense of peace she had not felt in a long while.

After reveling in the joy of her accomplishment, she decided it was time to fulfill her agreement and teach Ioreth the ways of modern medicine. She made her way down the many flights of stairs and found her way to the Great Hall. She wandered around a bit, searching for the healing wing, but eventually ended up asking directions from a guard stationed at one of the doors.

Jordan walked through the healing wing looking for Ioreth, all the while taking note of the lay out, level of sanitation, where supplies were kept, and any indication of record keeping methods. Ioreth emerged from a curtained off area and was quite surprised to see Jordan standing there.

"Hello, Ioreth."

"Good day to you. I must say I did not expect to see you here. Your progress is remarkable!"

"Well, I may never run again, but at least I am not confined to my bed."

"Indeed. Do you come seeking care or is there another matter at hand?"

"Actually, there is something I would like to discuss with you. I said I would teach you my healing methods and I am willing to do so, if you are still interested."

"Oh, yes, of course!"

"First, I would like to simply observe your ways for a while to get a better idea of your level of skill and your treatment methods, if that is alright with you."

Ioreth agreed this would be a good way to start and for the rest of the day, Jordan shadowed Ioreth, asking questions throughout, and did not return to her quarters until just before evening meal.

As she sat at the vanity table brushing her hair, she was becoming increasingly nervous about eating in the dining hall; mostly because she did not know what to expect. Would it be crowded? Would others look at her strangely; treat her as an outsider? How would she know what was expected of her? All of these questions and more ran through her mind and self-doubt nagged at her. She was considering skipping dinner altogether when there was a soft knock at the door. Upon opening it, she found Legolas waiting on the other side, looking as regal as ever.

"Good evening, my lady."

"Legolas! Please. Come in." She was relieved to see him. Perhaps he could explain the protocols of the dining hall.

"You are only using one walking cane!" He remarked, as he fell in step behind her.

"I am." She said proudly. "Born out of necessity, really. I could not carry my breakfast out to the balcony using two. _I_ have a balcony! Come look!" She said excitedly.

"I take it your new quarters are to your liking?" He said with a laugh at her enthusiasm.

"That is an understatement. I love it!"

"I am happy for you."

As they stepped out onto the balcony, she said, "Look! You can see Minas Tirith!"

She turned to him with a gleeful smile and it filled him with joy to see her so happy.

"I have come to ask…"

"I was going to ask…"

They both spoke at once; then laughed at their folly.

"You go first." Jordan said.

"I have come to ask if you would allow me to escort you to the dining hall."

"Oh, yes, thank you!" She sighed with relief. "I was just going to ask you what it was like. I was so nervous about going alone."

"You needn't worry now. Shall we?"

The corridors were fairly wide. Legolas offered his arm and she intertwined her with his and side-by-side, they walked to the dining hall.

As they approached the dining hall, a dull roar could be heard as the people talked and laughed and enjoyed their meal. This was the first time she had taken a meal in the dining hall and Jordan began to get nervous about the large crowd. Legolas sensed her apprehension as her pace slowed.

"What is it?"

"There are so many people. What if they all stare?"

"Then let them. You look lovely." This did not quell her fear, so he added, "most will be quite occupied with their food, drink, and conversation; I assure you, they will hardly take notice."

She did receive a few odd looks but none openly stared as they took their seats towards the head of the main table near Faramir and Eowyn. Jordan was relieved to see familiar faces.

"Good evening, Eowyn, Faramir." She greeted them.

"Good evening to you." They replied.

Wine, ale, and water were the beverages of choice on the table, and Jordan opted for the water again. Dinner was served shortly after their arrival; an unidentified meat, roasted potatoes, and bread. She dared not ask.

"Legolas," Faramir began, "I received word earlier today that there is need for me to go to Minas Tirith. Aragorn has called all advisors to him for talks of a trade agreement with the Easterlings."

"The Easterlings?" He said with distaste. "What is Aragorn thinking?"

"Nothing is set, but he feels it would be wise to eliminate the threat by offering such a goodwill gesture. They will be eager to accept as their people have been devastated and their lands depleted by the war."

"I see. A wise move indeed, however, I fear they are not to be trusted."

"I thought you and your lady should come along. Aragorn and Arwen are anxious to see you, Legolas. As well, I thought it may provide an opportunity for you, Jordan, to search for your book."

'_Your_ lady?' She thought, but let it go. She looked to Legolas for his reaction before she responded.

"When does Aragorn have need of you?" Legolas inquired.

"Three weeks hence."

Jordan's excitement was growing at the prospect of traveling to Minas Tirith.

"I foresee a problem with that. Negotiations with the Dwarves have stalled. The original agreement is no longer satisfactory to them and it may be necessary for me to reopen negotiations in person."

"Send one of your advisors in your stead."

"I would that, but they refuse. They still cling to the old ways."

"How unfortunate. Well, if there is some arrangement to be made, give me word and I will make the necessary preparations for your inclusion."

With that, Jordan's hopes of going to Minas Tirith any time soon were dashed. In addition, it sounded like Legolas would be leaving Emyn Arnen for a time. She concealed her disappointment and turned to Eowyn. "Will you be accompanying Faramir, Eowyn?"

"For certain." She answered. She looked at Faramir lovingly and smiled. "Where he goes, I go as well. I would not have us parted."

Faramir brought his hand to her face and kissed his wife; a short but sweet kiss. Jordan felt a stab of jealously, but simply smiled at their display of affection. It was quickly dismissed as there was a great commotion and cheering behind her.

"What is happening?" Jordan asked.

"The musicians are about to play." Legolas answered, pointing to the side of the dining hall.

Her excitement returned. "Oh! I love music!" She watched eagerly in anticipation as the musicians took their places. The whole dining hall clapped and cheered as they started to play. The music was lively and sounded similar to an Irish jig.

"Does this happen every night?" She yelled over the din.

Legolas leaned in close and spoke into her ear. "No, only but once a week."

For a moment time stood still and everything around her was forgotten as she became acutely aware of his closeness, the scent of him, and the warmth of his breath on her neck. She found herself wanting to lean in to him further and feel his strong arms around her. Her face had been turned towards the musicians while he spoke and when she turned her head towards him, she did so too quickly, before he had a chance to lean back, and she realized their lips were millimeters apart. Her breath hitched as she looked into his eyes and thought for a moment he was going to kiss her. The desire was apparent in his eyes, but he held perfectly still, perhaps waiting for the tiniest perception of movement towards him to indicate her willingness, but she turned away shyly. Her heart was pounding and her face flushed. She took up a mug of ale and drank from it as a distraction, hoping his gaze would be elsewhere when she put it down. To her relief, he was looking to the back of dining hall as she set the mug back down on the table. Suddenly, Legolas was tugging at her other hand.

"Come. There is someone I would like you to meet."

They made their way through the crowd of onlookers and people dancing to the back of the dining hall near the exiting doors. To her surprise, she was face to face with another Elf.

"This is Cailethas, my friend and trusted advisor."

He was also beautiful, like Legolas; very tall and fair skinned, but whereas Legolas had very light golden hair, Cailethas' was dark, almost black.

"Cailethas, this is the Lady Jordan."

"So, you are the lady Legolas talks so much about. I am pleased to finally make your acquaintance." He said with a slight bow. It made her curious to know just what Legolas had said about her.

"It is good to meet you as well. You are helping Legolas with the garden, then?"

He grinned at Legolas. "I think he finds me more of a hindrance than help right now, but yes."

"Do you live here in Emyn Arnen or are you from the Elf-colony?"

"The fairer land of the Elf-colony is where I call home, but alas, my lord has need of me here." He sighed overdramatically.

"Who is your lord?"

Cailethas raised his eyebrow. "Why, Legolas of course; Lord of the Elves of Ithilien." Her look must have been one of shock for he said, "Oh…you did not know." Turning to Legolas, he said, "Forgive me, Legolas. I fear I have said too much."

"_Ú-moe edhored, mellon nîn_."

"_Hannon le, hír nîn_." He nodded to Jordan. "My lady." He said and walked off.

"What did you say to him?"

"I told him, there is nothing to forgive. He thanked me."

"I think you have some explaining to do." She looked at him expectantly.

"Let us go somewhere private, and I will tell you what you want to know." He said solemnly.

He led her outside the dining hall into the cool night air and down a path to the courtyard. They walked in silence across the courtyard, over the grass, to a stone wall being overtaken by green vines. Legolas opened the gate and allowed Jordan to walk through first. They walked further still, down a path following along the inside of the wall, lit by lanterns hanging on metal stakes driven into the ground until they came to a large semicircular stone fountain built right into the wall. He motioned for her to sit down on its edge. Legolas sat down next to her and hung his head and kept his eyes focused on the ground.

"You are unhappy with me."

"It is true what he said? Are you the Lord of the Elves of Ithilien?"

"Aye. It is true. As well, I am the Prince of Eryn Lasgalen." He said quietly.

"You told me about your home and yet you intentionally left those details out. Why?"

"I feared it would make you uncomfortable. You seemed to be unaccustomed to those with titles. I did not want you to feel a need to treat me differently because of what I am."

"I may have or I may not have, but you did not give me that chance."

"I know; and for that, I am sorry."

"How can you be Lord of the Elves of Ithilien and Prince of Eryn Lasgalen at the same time?"

"I am a prince by title only. I have no kingdom to rule over. My father is the King of Eyrn Lasgalen and he will not hand down his reign anytime soon. He will linger in Middle Earth until all of the Elves have gone on to Valinor, until his kingdom is all but spent, and he will diminish into the forest and become nothing more than shadow and myth."

"Where is Valinor?"

"Across the sea. The Undying Lands; the _true_ home of the Elves. Long ages have passed since the Elves were called home but most did not heed that call. They chose to remain in Middle Earth; but the time of the Elves is over and many will be leaving these shores, never to return. I have gathered all of the Elves that wish to remain and we have made our new home in the forests of Ithilien. Our purpose is to restore these lands ravaged by war, neglect, and misuse, to what they once were."

"Will you eventually sail to Valinor?"

"Aye, thought not for many years. There is much to accomplish."

Jordan did not say anything further. It made her terribly sad to think that one day Legolas would be leaving for Valinor, that she may never see him again. After a long silence, Legolas stood and dropped to one knee before her, bowing his head.

"I have not been forthcoming with you and I am sorry. Do I have your forgiveness?" He asked solemnly. She did not know why she did so, but she extended a shaking hand and caressed the side of his head, running her hand down the length of his hair; smoothing it.

"Of _course_ you have my forgiveness." She said gently.

He took her hand from his hair and put it to his face, pressing his cheek into it and holding it there with his own. Then he brought it to his lips and kissed it.

"Thank you, my lady." He looked up at her, eyes shining with joy. Jordan was surprised at his reaction and it gave her the same flushed, heart pounding feeling she had in the dining hall. Then she knew.

'I'm falling for him. No…I'm falling for him. It's already begun. NO…I can't let this happen. Nothing good could come from it.' She bemoaned to herself. She quickly decided to direct their attention elsewhere as Legolas stood up and sat back down next to her on the fountain's edge.

"So, what is this place you have taken me?"

"It is my garden."

"_This_ is the garden you have been working on? Oh, Legolas! It is beautiful!"

"Would you like me to show you around?"

"Please."

Lanterns lit the way and as they walked along the path, he shared with her his vision for the garden, stopping at many of the raised beds to point out the various kinds of flowers, plants, and herbs growing there. There is still much to do," he explained, "but I expect it should be completed by the end of the summer. As they made their way towards the center of the garden, Jordan saw a large pond. In the middle was a small island where there sat an intricately carved wooden gazebo. Inside the gazebo hung a few of the same lanterns as on the path; creating a glow from within. In addition, a small arched wooden bridge connected the island to the mainland.

"We should turn back now. The rest of it is largely unfinished. As well, you must be growing weary from such a long walk.

"As much as I hate to leave this place, I _am_ getting pretty tired. I did not realize it was so large when you spoke of it. You have really done a wonderful job."

"Thank you. Come. I will walk you back to your quarters."

By the time they reached Jordan's quarters, she was exhausted.

"Thank you for showing me your garden. It was so beautiful."

"You are welcome and you may return anytime you wish."

"Thank you. Good night, Legolas"

"Good night, my lady." He said putting his hand over his heart and bowing.

Finally alone, she struggled out of her gown and hung it up in the wardrobe. Then she quickly put on her sleeping gown, eager to climb into bed. But sleep did not come. Her mind was at war. Her thoughts kept returning to Legolas; how his soft touch made her heart race. But he was an Elf, an immortal. One day he would leave for Valinor. She did not know where this was but it sounded far away. She could not let herself succumb to these feelings. She would have to put some distance between her and the Elf. To do so, meant she would need to keep herself as busy as possible.

As the days went by, Jordan was becoming increasingly accustomed to her new quarters, putting personal touches here and there and rearranging the furniture to her liking. She had acquired all that she needed on a daily basis, had a variety of gowns to choose from and eventually fell into a routine which made her feel like a productive member of society. She finally felt at home, as much as one could.

She considered teaching Ioreth about modern medicine her "job" now, so to speak, and she "worked" about four hours a day. She left her quarters in the morning and usually did not return until evening. Firstly, she would eat breakfast in the dining hall. After breakfast, she spent at least an hour exploring the palace and surrounding areas to build up her strength and keep herself in shape. Then, it was off to "work" in library, painstakingly drawing diagrams and anatomy charts for Ioreth. It was a long process with only a quill and ink at her disposal but it did not matter; there were no deadlines to meet.

She took a leisurely pace in her activities; always busy but never hurried. It was a refreshing change from the hectic schedule she kept back home. Evening meals in the dining hall were the only times she saw Legolas of late. They would sit together and share the events of each other's day. But when the meal was finished, they would part ways and Jordan would take a walk in the cool evening air. Jordan never asked Legolas to join her and he no longer offered to escort her, sensing her need for solitude. He did not understand why she no longer desired his company outside of evening meal, but was unsure how to approach the subject tactfully.

Jordan spoke to Faramir about providing her with a tutor of some kind to teach her about the history of Middle Earth; someone who could be trusted to be discrete about her background. Faramir immediately suggested that she put Legolas to the task, but Jordan declined, using the excuse that she did not want to pull him away from his work on the garden. He eventually chose his chief chronicler, Turgon, and twice a week, they would meet in Faramir's personal study instead of the library to alleviate the chance of someone overhearing their conversation.

She learned she had arrived in Middle Earth in early spring and now it was fast approaching mid summer. The days were getting quite hot and the evenings did not cool down so much anymore. She found even the lightest gowns became cumbersome in the heat but the stone palace stayed relatively cool, so she learned to stay indoors during the midday. Thankfully, in addition to the several gowns, she also acquired a light silken robe from Eowyn to wear in the evenings instead of the heavier cotton sleeping gowns she had.

On this particular night, although the stars covered the sky, much warmth from the sun still lingered. She removed her restrictive gown and put on the flowing white silken robe Eowyn had given her. She poured herself a glass of wine; then carried a few of the candelabras out on the balcony. Taking one of the long matches from a tin by the fireplace, she walked around her quarters lighting each individual candle, working her way out to the balcony where she lit those as well. Sitting down on the chaise, she could see the lights of Minas Tirith through the darkness. She imagined many people were doing the same thing there, as she was here.

As beautiful and peaceful as it was, her thoughts turned wistful and bittersweet as she thought of her former home. There were so many things that she missed; all of the modern conveniences she took for granted. Normally, it did not bother her, but for some reason tonight was different. As she looked out over the expanse, she felt like no more than a tiny speck in the universe, lost and so far away from everything she ever knew. She was grateful for her friends but this did not keep her loneliness at bay tonight. She longed for something more; more intimate; the closeness and comfort that only a lover could provide. By her own doing had she put distance between her and Legolas with the objective of quelling her feelings for him, but to her dismay, all it resulted in was longing for the more private times she had spent with him. Some music, at least, would have been a comfort; to let her mind go and let the music flow through her, losing herself in the feeling it created, but alas, she had neither.

Therefore, she closed her eyes and let her mind become the player and listened to the music in her head. So lost was she in the music of her mind, she almost missed the soft knock at the door. It was probably Maeve, the housekeeper, bringing fresh linens for tomorrow but the hour was fairly late for such tidings. Standing, she quickly adjusted her robe and tightened the sash, making sure she was properly covered and went to open the door. She was not expecting to find Legolas on the other side and she could not hide her surprise. He misread her reaction and thought he was disturbing her.

"Forgive me. I should not have come at this late hour. I will bid you good night, then." He bowed and turned to leave.

"Wait, Legolas." She said gently. "You are not disturbing me. You may come in, if you wish." He kept his expression neutral but her words flowed through him, enveloping his heart, causing it to flutter. "I was just sitting out on the balcony having a glass of wine; would you care to join me?"

"Aye. I would like that."

As she poured the wine, she asked, "Have you found anyone to negotiate with the Dwarves yet?"

"Not as of late. I am sorry. I know you were eager to go to Minas Tirith."

"It is alright. Some other time, perhaps."

"Perhaps."

He followed her out onto the balcony and they sat together on the chaise and sipped their wine; each lost in their own thoughts as they gazed at Minas Tirith with its multitude of lantern and candle lights glittering in the distance like a radiant gem. It was enough just to be near one another and not a word was spoken for a long while, as if remaining silent would hide them from the passage of time and allow this moment to go on forever; though neither would admit their desire.

"What do you miss most about your homeworld?" Legolas asked softly.

Jordan smiled. "Other than running water?" She said with a laugh. "Music. I miss music."

"There is music here in Middle Earth." Legolas pointed out. "Is music in your world different?"

"Some of it is. But it is the manner in which we listen to it that is different. We do not have to wait for someone to sing a song or play an instrument. We have a device that captures sound. Once it has captured the music and their voice, you can listen to the song over and over again, anytime you want.

"It is unfortunate you did not bring such a device with you. I am very fond of music as well."

"It would not work here. It needs electricity."

"Oh, of course." Legolas said. "Can you sing? Perhaps you could sing us a song."

"I _can_ sing but that doesn't mean I do it well."

Legolas smiled. "It matters not, if you put your heart into it."

"Okay. You were warned. I will sing you a lullaby from a realm in my world called Ireland." As she sang, she held his gaze and he hers, as if it were not just a song but that she truly meant the words for him alone.

(To hear the song Jordan sings to Legolas, visit this section of chapter 10 at elvenladyofithilien dot com)

Legolas was mesmerized. He was sure the song must be some sort of magic spell, for as he listened, a calmness filled his heart and stilled his mind, washing over him like waves upon the sand. He was wrong before and took back his words when he said he never saw her look more beautiful than at this morning's feast. It was _this_ moment, as she sang to him.

When she finished, he did not speak but continued to look into her eyes. The desire welled up in him to feel the caress of her hand on his face again, to touch her lips with his, to drink in their sweetness but he was hesitant to act upon it. Every time they had been close, she had turned away.

"Legolas?" She placed her hand over his to shake him from this enchantment. Her touch was all it took. Without saying a word, he turned his hand over, interlaced his fingers with hers, and pulled her to him; his azure eyes gazing deep into hers. He brought his other hand up and gently caressed the side of her face. She could not turn from his gaze. She was utterly lost in him; breathless; he was so beautiful, her heart ached. Sliding his fingers under her chin, he guided her lips to his and kissed her; tentatively at first, but as her trembling hand slid down his muscular back, he knew she wanted this as well. He wrapped his arms around her and pulled her closer, deepening the kiss.

Her lips were full and soft and he drank from them; tasting and sucking. She let them part and he explored her warm mouth with his tongue. Her other hand slid up his back, through his long, silken hair, knotting her fingers in it. Her tongue played with his, rolling over each other as their kissing became more passionate, more insistent; his lips crushing hers. He moved his hand up her back until he felt his fingers glide slowly over the soft skin of her neck. He let them wander down the front of her neck and over the hollow between her collar bones; tracing them out to her shoulders, reveling in the feeling of her bare skin touching his. She could not stop; she did not want to stop.

Legolas slowed their pace; lightening the touch of his lips on hers, and with one last caress, he pulled his head back, gazing down at her. She smiled contently and ran her thumb across his cheek. She laid her head on his chest and he held her tight with one arm; stroking her hair with the other hand and they remained that way for some time. Eventually, he pulled away just enough to see her face although his arm remained around her, and she looked up at him and saw him smiling at her.

"Your song was most remarkable. I have never heard anyone use their voice like that before. I believe you have cast some spell over me. Can you heal with your voice as well?"

"No." She smiled. "And I assure you, I can cast no spells. It's just a lullaby. They're sung to make people fall asleep." She said, yawning.

"I think it has worked." He laughed gently. "I will take my leave and let you rest."

He stood and reached for her hand. She placed it in his and together they walked to the door.

"Good night, _Adanath Elenion_." He said as he kissed her hand.

Hearing him speak in his native tongue sent shivers coursing through Jordan's body; it was so beautiful.

"What does that mean?" She asked softly.

"Faramir once called you 'Lady of the Stars'. That is its Elvish translation."

"Good night, my prince."

Elvish translations:

_Ellith - _Female Elf

_Ú-moe edhored, mellon nîn_ - There is nothing to forgive, my friend

_Hannon le, hír nîn_ - Thank you, my lord

_Adanath Elenion - _(lit.) Mortal female of stars

114


	13. The Greater Good

Disclaimer: All characters and places mentioned are the sole property of Cyan, Inc., J.R.R. Tolkien, or Peter Jackson/New Line Cinema. This is strictly for entertainment purposes and not based on fact. I do not profit from this story in any way.

**Chapter 11 - The Greater Good**

Once the door was shut, Jordan leaned in and pressed her forehead against it, running her hand over the worn wood. "Legolas." She breathed. Leisurely, she made her way around her quarters, blowing out the candles one by one, leaving one lit next to the bed. Still lost in the moment of their kiss, she wandered out to the balcony, extinguishing the candles there, and stood in darkness at the railing watching the lights from Minas Tirith.

She could still taste him. She brought her hand up lightly touching her fingertips to her lips, still swollen from Legolas' passion, and sighed. Why did things have to be so complicated? He was an Elven Lord…_and_ he was immortal. They couldn't _be_ any more different. What kind of future would they possibly have? To be immortal was beyond her understanding. He would never age; forever remaining youthful and beautiful, but _she_, she would; the effects of time would ravage her body; the long years of her life would be etched on her face. What then? Would he still desire to be bound to an old crone? Eventually, she would die; leaving him to linger for eternity in this world alone. It was too great of a burden for her to bear. 'This is crazy. I can't believe I am even having this conversation with myself!' The fact that she was considering what her life would be like with an immortal being from another world was so ridiculously absurd, she had to laugh. As of six months ago, the only immortals known to her would be characters in some fantasy novel; usually darker characters, like vampires. They did not truly exist. Yet here she was; by her own choice no less…and Legolas was real; he was warm and alive, and she could not deny she desired his touch. 'Oh, for goodness sake, it was just a kiss! It's not like he professed his undying love.' She chided herself. She blew out the last candle and crawled into bed.

The next morning, Jordan went about business as usual but it was not without a general feeling of unease. She was apprehensive about seeing Legolas again. She did not know what to expect and was afraid it may be awkward. She found herself scanning the corridors, ever on the watch as she moved about the palace, hoping to avoid an unexpected encounter. However, he did not seek her out and they did not cross paths. In the healing wing that afternoon, Jordan was learning as well as teaching. Without the benefit of pharmaceuticals, she would have to rely on the limited abilities of botanical medicine, if she wished to treat patients. She was surprised to discover not only did Ioreth utilize herbs; but flowers, berries, seeds, roots, and bark were part of her pharmacopeia as well. Ioreth gave Jordan a brief overview of the usage and effects of the various substances. To Jordan's dismay, there were no books in which this information was kept. Ioreth relied solely on memory and years of experience. It would take Jordan years to memorize all of it. She wished there was some way she could take notes, but here, writing was considerably more difficult than just taking up a piece of paper and pen. Ioreth then began to delve deeper into the complexities of the methods of preparation, proper storage, and where they were grown. Jordan was having a difficult time processing this enormous amount of new information. She could only retain a fraction of what Ioreth was saying. Her mind was simply elsewhere.

"Now, what is the first step in preparing willow bark tea?"

"Oh…What?"

"Willow bark tea." Ioreth reiterated. "What is the first step in its preparation? Were you not listening?"

"No. I'm sorry, Ioreth. I just can't seem to focus today."

"So it would seem. I think we have covered enough for today. Perhaps we can start again tomorrow when your mind is rested."

"Yes. Thank you."

Jordan left the healing wing in haste, frustrated at her lack of concentration. It was that damn Elf! Sooner or later, she would have to face him. What would she say? How should she act? Should she carry on as if nothing happened between them? She did not know much about Elven customs but she had her suspicions that even a mere kiss was not taken as lightly here as it was in her world.

Unbeknownst to Jordan, Legolas' mind was burdened as well. So caught up in the moment had he been, all reasoning was lost and he had not asked permission to kiss her as was proper. Although she seemed a willing participant, he worried she may be angry with him for taking such a liberty. To say that he regretted the kiss, however, would taste a lie in his mouth. All told, he looked toward the impending evening meal with slight apprehension.

Instead of retreating to her quarters, Jordan decided to get away from the palace altogether and go for a walk. The wall surrounding the palace so far had only been completed on one side. She set out in the opposite direction, skirting around the far eastern end of Legolas' garden, and into the woods beyond. She knew she should not stray far for she walked slowly and tired easily. She did not wish to be caught out here in the dark. Nonetheless, she heard the sound of rushing water and decided to follow the sound. Luckily, she did not have to wander long. She came upon a large stream, and she marveled at her discovery. Pools of pale blue water swirled in the slower flowing portions, clear all the way to the rocky bottom, but becoming a misty white as it flowed over and around the higher boulders that occasionally broke the surface. She dared not swim in such a swift current although it was warm enough to do so. Sitting down on the bank, she took off her shoes, pulled up the hem of her dress, and eased her legs into the cool water. Putting her arms behind her, she leaned back and let her legs dangle in the current. Then she noticed something strange. She could register the temperature of the water with her injured leg. She thought it was all in her mind at first, so she pulled it out of the water and touched the skin with her fingertips. It was hard to be certain. If there was any feeling, it could be masked by the effects of the cold water. She rubbed her leg vigorously with her hands, searching her mind for acknowledgment of any sensation, however slight. There. Just below her knee. The sensation on the skin surface was dulled somewhat but she could feel distinct pressure from her hand. Further down toward her foot, it remained unchanged, but from just below her knee to the middle of her shin, feeling was coming back. That the nerve had been compressed by swelling and scar tissue was just not a possibility; she would have regained feeling long before now. It had to be that the nerve was regenerating. It was the only explanation. But _how_, she did not understand. It was not humanly possible. The part of her that was D'ni, however, _could_ be responsible for this miracle, for lack of a better word. Nothing was ever recorded about their general health, healing properties, or genetic makeup. All of the day's previous troubles were forgotten and she laughed out loud from sheer elation. She tried not to get her hopes up too high as this could be the extent of it with no further regeneration occurring, but somehow she did not think it to be so. 'I have to tell Legolas!'

As it were, she had lingered there too long and hoped she would make it back in time for evening meal. She walked as fast as she could, but it was not fast enough. Out of frustration, she pushed herself harder; her anxiety growing by the minute as she was so excited to share her news.

Thankfully, it was Thursday and the dining hall would be quiet. She had been relieved to learn a while back that the dining hall only hosted a large crowd on Highday, or Friday as it was known to her. Highday marked the end of their week and was a time for celebration and relaxation. Faramir, a philanthropist at heart, opened the dining hall for evening meal on this day to anyone, including the poorer folk inhabiting the nearby village. Any other evening witnessed a considerably more subdued affair with only the royal couple, appointed guests, and occasionally the palace guards in attendance.

When she finally reached the palace grounds, the sun was already sinking beneath the horizon. Her chest was heaving and her muscles burned from the exertion. She stopped a moment to rest and catch her breath; leaning heavily on her cane. Looking around, she noticed all was quiet and except for the guards at the main doors, there was not a soul to be seen. Evening meal must already be underway. The guards nodded to her as they opened the doors allowing her to pass through. She caught a glimpse of Legolas at the far end of the corridor just as he was about to enter the dining hall.

"Legolas!" She yelled, waving frantically. "Legolas!"

Upon hearing her cries, he turned quickly and came running in her direction with a look of concern on his face.

"What is it? What has happened?" He asked worriedly, grabbing hold of her hand.

All apprehension about seeing Legolas again after their kiss was forgotten. "The most remarkable thing." She answered with a smile.

"You are not hurt, then?"

"No!" She laughed. "Quite the opposite."

"Please, tell me what has happened!" He demanded impatiently.

"I am starting to regain feeling in my injured leg."

Without warning, he picked her up by the waist and spun her around in a circle. She let out a squeal of surprise, turning to laughter as he set her down gently.

"This is wonderful news! But how is it possible? You told me…"

"I know, I know. But somehow the nerve is starting to regenerate. The only explanation I can give is that I am half D'ni. There must be something in their genetic makeup that can repair nerve damage."

"Genetic what?"

"Genetic makeup; like building plans for your body. It's what determines your hair color, eye color, whether you're…"

Just then Eowyn and Faramir came rushing up.

"Is something amiss?" Faramir asked.

Eowyn added, "We heard raised voices."

"There is no need for concern." Legolas addressed them. "Jordan has just informed me that she has begun to regain feeling in her injured leg."

"That is wonderful!" Eowyn remarked.

"I will send for our finest wine. This calls for a celebration! Tell her Legolas." Faramir said with a twinkle in his eye.

As they walked toward the dining hall together, Legolas said to Jordan, "As well, I have some news you will be happy to hear. Cailethas feels badly about his recent error in judgment, so he has agreed to negotiate with the Dwarves in my stead as reparation, freeing me to escort you to Minas Tirith."

"We're going to Minas Tirith?" She asked excitedly.

"Aye. In one week's time."

Jordan stopped walking and turned to face him. She couldn't believe her good fortune. She would finally be able to see for herself what she could only imagine as she looked upon the White City every night from her balcony. Eowyn gave Faramir's hand a slight tug urging him to continue and let them alone.

"Oh, Legolas!" She hugged him tightly about the chest. He was surprised at her sudden display of affection and froze for a moment, holding his breath. As she clung to him, he slowly let his breath out and put his arms around her. It was supposed to be simply a grateful hug but she felt such comfort in his arms, she lingered in his embrace. The faint scent of her lavender soap filled his senses. There was something he felt when she was near, something aching and longing from deep inside; like this was last time he was to look upon her. He felt a strange emptiness when she let him go; as if he had lost a part of himself. At first, he could not explain these feelings; then it finally became clear. Desire. He desired that which he could not yet have. Earlier, he decided that if the possibility existed that it was in she the Valar deemed his destiny lie, it deserved to be explored. What he found was, whether by the will of the Valar or not, his feelings towards her were moving past the precincts of friendship; setting a new path about his feet. Where it would lead, he did not know; but whether to his very destruction, it was too late to turn back now. The only question was would she follow?

"What is it, Legolas?"

"It is nothing." He said, putting on an enchanting smile to hide his inner discord.

She started into the dining hall and he fell in step behind her.

"There you two are!" Faramir said with mock exasperation.

The meal had already been served to empty seats and the wine was on the table. Legolas pulled out a chair allowing Jordan to sit first. As he took his seat next to her, he spied the wine bottle.

"Dorwinion!" He exclaimed, picking up the bottle to take a closer look. "This was always on hand in Mirkwood. It was my father's favorite. I have not tasted it in ages."

"Ah, yes. I thought you may appreciate that."

"How did you come by this?"

"It was a wedding gift." Eowyn offered.

"Are you certain you want to share this?" Legolas asked the couple incredulously.

Faramir slapped the table with both hands; a wide grin lighting up his face. "Without a doubt! Wine is for drinking, is it not?"

"Dorwinion? What is that?" Jordan asked, looking to Legolas, then Faramir.

"Dorwinion lies in a region known as Wilderland. Renowned for its vineyards, it produces some of the finest wine in all of Middle Earth." Legolas explained.

Faramir added, "Its potency can cloud the judgment of even the strongest man but it will evoke deep and pleasant dreams."

"You know your wine well."

"Legolas, will you do us the honor?"

Legolas dislodged the stopper and filled everyone's goblet with the dark, pungent liquid.

Faramir held his goblet high saying, "A toast!"

Eowyn, Jordan, and Legolas all raised their goblets in turn.

"To good fortune, good friends, and a safe journey."

"Aye."

"Here, here."

"Wait!" Jordan cried.

The others had already brought their goblet to their lips prepared to drink, but froze at her outcry.

"It is a tradition in my world. After a toast, one must clink their glass together with everyone present at the table, like this." She tapped Legolas' goblet with her own. All extended their goblets at once, following her example. Laughter erupted as they tried to maneuver their goblets around each other's and could not remember who clinked whose.

Jordan sampled the heady wine; it had a slightly bitter, acidic undercurrent which burned her throat going down; turning to a pleasant warmth that spread across her face and down to her belly.

"Whoa!" Her whole body shuddered. "You weren't joking." This caused another peal of laughter for they understood all too well her initial reaction to the Dorwinion wine. The wine was set aside as they ate their meal of stewed meat and potatoes with warm bread for dipping before it became cold.

The journey to Minas Tirith was the topic of conversation as they finished supper.

"I think we are agreed we should all travel on horseback rather than tow a cart for the women, are we not?"

"Aye. Horseback would be faster."

Jordan felt compelled to speak up upon hearing this. "I don't really know how to ride a horse."

"I see. Well…"

Eowyn broke in, "I will teach her."

"You will? Thank you, Eowyn."

"Yes. It will give us a chance to talk of more…_womanly_ things." She said, alluding to the fact that the present conversation was quickly shifting in favor of the males.

"Good. It is settled. Jordan, you are in fine hands. Eowyn is a very accomplished rider."

Faramir turned his attentions back to Legolas. "What I am unclear of is whether we should ride in the daylight leaving us potentially vulnerable to attack as we cross Pelennor fields or in the cover of darkness where we may slip past unseen. What are your thoughts?"

Eowyn glanced at Jordan from across the table and groaned, rolling her eyes. Jordan had to stifle a giggle.

"Unless the moon is full, the darkness could as well shield the enemy from our sight. Daylight carries less risk. 'Twould be folly to stage an attack on the open plains. It is too bold. The enemy would be sighted long before they drew near enough to cause any harm."

Eowyn finally rose, saying, "If you will kindly excuse us, we ladies are retreating to the garden. You may join us later if you feel so obliged."

Jordan stood as well and took up her wine goblet, preparing to leave with Eowyn.

"Our company is no longer suitable? You cut me to the quick, good woman." Legolas said with his hand on his heart, feigning rejection.

"No, dear one, but the topic of conversation leaves much to be desired."

Faramir leaned over towards Legolas and whispered loudly, "That means they wish to discuss us in secrecy," pretending Eowyn could not hear his words. She raised her eyebrow toward him in warning and Faramir sat fully upright, clearing his throat; adopting a look of innocence. "Come. Kiss me my lovely wife and you may be on your way." Faramir demanded, beckoning her near with his hand.

She obeyed, kissing him full on the mouth, a little too amorously for public eyes. Jordan shifted her weight uncomfortably as she looked on. Would Legolas expect a similar token of affection? She didn't want to risk rudeness by simply leaving the table without a word, but was unsure what would be appropriate. She decided a friendly goodbye would suffice.

"Farewell, Legolas."

He turned to her, took the goblet from her hand and set it on the table, then took her hand and kissed it; looking deeply into her eyes as he did so; letting his lips linger a few seconds longer than was proper.

"_Namárië, hiril nîn."_

She felt her cheeks flush, knowing that everyone was witness to this display.

The sky had faded into a deep sapphire blue and the first few stars of evening were appearing as the two women walked towards the garden. All the while they talked and sipped their wine. Eowyn did not waste any time getting to the point.

"How long has Legolas been courting you?"

"Courting me?" Jordan repeated. She knew she had heard this term before. Then she remembered it was an archaic term similar to 'dating'. "No, he is not courting me. I mean he kissed me but…"

"He _kissed_ you? When?"

"Last night in my quarters."

"And yet you say he is not courting you. Oh, dear. The ways of your world must be very different."

"Does that mean something?"

"A kiss does not have meaning in your world?"

"Yes…well, sometimes."

As their conversation continued, they made their way through the garden, across the bridge to the little island; settling into the built-in benches of the cozy, lantern-lit gazebo.

"He cares about you greatly. I have never seen him respond to any female, elf-kind or mortal, in the manner he responds to you. If he has not yet asked to court you, he will do so soon."

Jordan groaned. "What do I do?" She asked frantically.

"What do you mean? Do you not care for Legolas as well?"

"I do. He's wonderful, but…" She shook her head. "I can't, I just can't."

"Why do you say that?"

"Everyone I have loved has either left me or betrayed me. I cannot go through that again."

"It is true there is much to risk when it comes to affairs of the heart. But the person who renounces love; do they risk less? To suffer their whole lives alone, without the joy and light that love brings? We are not so different, you and I. There was a time when my heart was consumed by bitterness and despair; when my country was desolate and isolated; corrupted by evil. Many lives were lost in the war. There are few still, untouched by its affects. Were it not for Faramir's love, I would have succumbed to my grief. If you keep your heart locked away; denying feeling, denying love, it will consume you piece by piece; you will never be whole."

"But Legolas is an Elf; an immortal, Faramir isn't."

"It matters not. Nothing can stand in the way of love; not race, not age, not even death. When you pass on, he will sail to Valinor and carry your memory with him. An Elf paired with a mortal is uncommon, but it is not unheard of. Aragorn and Arwen are such. Aragorn is a Dunedain; not unlike you, blessed with long life. Arwen is an Elf. Legolas is an honorable Elf and his heart is true. Trust in him. He will not lead you astray."

"Who is leading whom astray?" Faramir laughed as he and Legolas crossed the bridge to the gazebo, wine goblets in hand. "I trust we are interrupting something."

"My, someone is in good spirits!" Eowyn remarked as Faramir leaned over to kiss her.

"And why not? I have the most beautiful wife in all of Middle Earth."

"Mmm. Hello, my love." She purred seductively as he reclined next to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulders. Jordan noticed how Eowyn seemed to light up when Faramir was near. Jordan smiled at Legolas as he sat down next to her.

"Hello." She said shyly, self-conscious of the fact that they were just discussing him.

"Hello, my lady. How is your wine?"

"Um, good, now that I have become accustomed to it."

As she spoke, he could not help but focus on her lips. They had taken on a darker hue from the blush of the wine making them appear fuller and he desired to taste them as he did last night. Jordan sighed and tilted her head back to look past the obstructing roof and see the stars. The tranquil sounds of the cricket's nightly song and the trickling water from the nearby fountain floated on the warm, gentle breeze that caressed her face. Her body was completely relaxed as a tingling warmth spread throughout from the effects of the wine.

"You ladies could not have chosen a finer night to venture outside." Faramir commented.

"Aye, it is a beautiful evening at that." Legolas added; but he was not looking at the darkened sky, the stars, nor the garden; rather the lady at his side. Eowyn smiled to herself as she was witness to this subtle admission. She hoped that her words had some effect on Jordan. She did not wish to see either one of them hurt or kept apart because of fear and doubt. They deserved to experience what it was to love and be loved completely; the joining of two halves that become whole. They could provide that for each other. Eowyn knew it in her heart. But what of the book? What if she actually does find it and wants to return home? Legolas had better find a way to win her heart or all hope may be lost for them. Jordan lifted her head, a contented smile upon her face.

"Perhaps, Lady Jordan, you would grace us with a song on this fine evening?" Legolas asked.

"Oh, I don't know." She said bashfully.

"The lady can sing?" Faramir asked with great surprise.

"Aye. Her voice is quite lovely."

"No, really, it's not that good." She protested.

"And modest, as well." Faramir remarked.

"Oh, please Jordan? Sing for us." Eowyn pleaded.

"Please…for me?" Legolas asked softly, taking her hand as he held her gaze intently. Eowyn gave Faramir a subtle nudge and a slight nod in their direction, calling his attention to this little exchange. Jordan felt her resistance slipping. She was helpless when he looked at her this way.

"Alright." She reluctantly acquiesced. "My father's ancestors were from a land called Ireland. This is a traditional folk song sung there from long ago." She took a sip of wine for courage and cleared her throat. Her voice rang out clear and pure through the quiet darkness; the sounds of night her only accompaniment. When the last note was sung, they all applauded her.

"That was wonderful!" Eowyn remarked.

"Stunning. How do you make your voice sound like that?" Faramir asked.

"I don't know. It's just the style of singing common to that region." Jordan answered sheepishly; embarrassed from their praise.

"Thank you, my lady." Legolas said graciously.

Not a word was spoken by any of them for a long while; none needed to be said. It was enough to simply enjoy the quiet stillness of the evening with good friends at hand and the occasion sip of wine. Eowyn had settled into Faramir, leaning her head on his shoulder. They seemed so comfortable. A part of Jordan wished for that kind of familiarity with Legolas. She stole a glance at him while his head was turned towards the garden; studying the intricate braid that ran across the side of his head and behind his ear. It appeared to be woven with threads of gold as it reflected the flickering glow of the lanterns. The desire struck her to trace its path with her fingertips but she stayed her hand. It was so hard to know what implications certain gestures might carry. The air had become cooler and despite the warmth created from the wine, goose bumps broke out on Jordan's skin causing a brief shiver. Legolas recognized this sign as one being affected by the cold, so he moved closer and wrapped his arm around her for added warmth. Her body stiffened; unsure how to react to this unexpected action.

"I thought you might be cold." He explained.

"Oh…uh yes, a little. Thank you."

She allowed herself to relax into him, resting her head on the side of his chest.

"The air does have a chill tonight. Shall we retire, then?" Faramir addressed his company.

Jordan reached for her cane, about to stand up, but Legolas grasped her wrist and held her back.

"I think we may stay a bit longer."

"Oh! Alright." She said, surprised at his forwardness and confused as to his reasoning.

"Very well. Thank you for a most enjoyable evening; especially to you, Lady Jordan, for your lovely song."

"Yes, thank you. Jordan, if you would meet me in the stables after breakfast tomorrow, you shall have your first riding lesson."

"I look forward to it, Eowyn. Good night." She called out to them.

"Good evening." Legolas said to them as they walked across the bridge towards the palace.

They watched until the last trace of Eowyn and Faramir's silhouettes disappeared in the darkness. Legolas turned to Jordan and said, "If you are wondering why we did not leave with Faramir and Eowyn, it is that I wished to speak with you alone."

Those words tied Jordan's stomach in knots. What could he possibly want to say that he could not in the presence of others? What if he asked to court her, like Eowyn said he would? What would she say?

"I feel I must apologize for not asking your permission to kiss you last night. I can only hope you have not taken offense."

Jordan breathed a sigh of relief. "Oh, Legolas, it was just a kiss!" She scoffed. Such formality here! Sometimes, it was just too much.

"So, it meant nothing to you!" He said; a touch of hurt and anger in his voice. He stood up quickly and started to leave.

"Legolas, no, please. Come back. That's not what I meant." She pleaded. He turned around slowly and she reached for his hand. "Please sit down." He let her take his hand and sat back down next to her. "Of _course_ it meant something to me." She reassured him. "I would not have allowed it otherwise. I am just not accustomed to the use of such formal social practices. Sometimes it takes me by surprise. Try to understand; my culture is very different from yours. Over the last century or so, there has been a gradual shift in thinking; leaving behind the old, formal traditions of society and adopting more of a casual attitude towards the interactions between men and women. For example, it is very common for men and women to kiss simply for the pleasure of it. They may not care about the other person at all. Then there are some who only pretend to care about the other person so that they may satisfy their self-indulgence."

"That is unheard of among my kin. Such actions are hurtful and dishonest."

"Yes, they are. But unfortunately there are many who have little respect for others and it is just something that has come to be accepted in my world. It doesn't make it right but there is not much hope in changing it."

"Why? Why is it accepted? To behave in such a manner is to act without honor. Is honor not a desirable aspiration?"

"It once was, but it is no longer a necessity in defining one's character."

"I do not think I would get along very well in your world."

Jordan smiled at the thought of Legolas in her world. "To tell you the truth, _I_ did not get along very well, either. There _are_ good people in my world but there are a lot less of them than there are bad people and it is hard to know whom you can trust." She ended on a sad note.

Legolas judged by her words that she was speaking from past experience. "You have been hurt before by one of these people." He observed.

"Yes." She dropped her gaze to the floor in shame.

Legolas took her hand and she lifted her gaze once again. "Perhaps one day when you are ready, you will speak of it; it need not be now." He said kindly. "It is an odd thing; long have I toiled to bring about peace and prosperity to this land. Now that it has been achieved, I do not rejoice in it. I do not desire power or wealth or notoriety for these are fickle things; power can be seized, wealth can be squandered, great deeds can be forgotten. What I desire is much less ambitious but far more valuable."

"What is it you desire?"

"Love. For what good is peace when there is no one to share it?"

He did not come outright and say it; but she knew he spoke of her. "Know that my feelings are pure and my actions honorable. I would never mislead you or hurt you. It is against my very nature."

Tears welled up in her eyes at his touching declaration and a single teardrop escaped, sliding slowly down her cheek. "I care about you Legolas; and that is a difficult thing for me. I told myself I would never care for someone again. To open your heart like that is to become vulnerable. I believe what you say to be true but it is hard to accept; it is hard to let go and trust again. I don't know if I'm ready."

He wiped the tear away with his thumb. "I will wait for you. As long as it takes, I will wait for you." He said resolutely.

She hugged him and he held her close and stroked her hair.

"We should return to the palace; dawn comes quickly and you will need your strength for I have no doubt Eowyn's riding lessons will be trying."

Upon arriving at their quarters, Eowyn and Faramir warily changed into their sleeping clothes. A knock at the door was a servant bringing the couple some tea, who then retired to the balcony to relax and unwind after the evening's revelry.

"Did you see the way Legolas looks at her?"

"Yes. The same way I looked at you during our time in the Houses of Healing."

"She is not ready to accept his love."

"You know this?"

"Yes. She confided to me."

"If what you say is true, the path he seeks is a dangerous one." Faramir concluded.

"Do you think it is folly on our part to bring her to Minas Tirith? What if she does indeed find her book and wishes to leave?"

"I do not know. It cannot be undone now. It would raise suspicion in their eyes. All we can hope is that she does not find it."

"I fear for Legolas. Strong in mind and body he is, but Elven hearts are fragile." Eowyn said. "I fear he will fade if she leaves."

"I do not wish to bear witness to that."

"Nor I. There must be something that can be done…"

Jordan found her way to the stables shortly after breakfast. It was a large building and she did not see Eowyn immediately; so for the moment she wandered through, looking at the many horses. She did not have much experience with horses but it seemed to Jordan that they were bigger here in Middle Earth; taller at least. She was reminded of her last encounter with a horse and she shuddered.

"Jordan! At last I have found you." Jordan turned around and saw Eowyn holding a saddle. On top of it was a stack of folded clothes in which she handed to Jordan. "These garments are for you. You may change in one of the stalls."

Jordan unfolded the clothes. To her joy, she realized they were a pair of pants and a tunic.

"Pants! How nice it will be to wear a pair of pants again!"

"Pants? These are riding breeches. They are not usually worn by women but it will make learning to ride easier without a gown to get in the way." While Jordan was changing, Eowyn handed her a pair of boots over the stall wall. "You can use these for now, but at some point, you should have your own made in the proper size."

Once Jordan was dressed, Eowyn led her to the horse she would be riding. "This is Bromnsä. She is a gentle horse. You should have no trouble with her."

"Hello, Bromnsä." Jordan greeted her, petting her nose cautiously.

Eowyn took great care in explaining the proper way to tack up a horse. Then she made Jordan brush the horse, allowing her to get acquainted with the animal. When Jordan felt comfortable with Bromnsä's demeanor, Eowyn had Jordan lead the horse to the fenced-in field where the horses are allowed out to graze and instructed her to mount the horse. For the next several hours, Eowyn put her through the paces; from a slow walk to a trot and finally a canter; shouting commands from the center of field while Jordan rode in circles around her. It was a little awkward at first with her injured leg, but Jordan adapted quickly and felt fairly confident. Occasionally, Eowyn would stop her to give her advice or make a suggestion. It seemed Bromnsä and Jordan were a good match, Eowyn observed. The sun was getting hot and both horse and rider were beginning to sweat. As well, Jordan's muscles were starting to fatigue. Eowyn put her hand up, motioning Jordan to stop, and waved her over.

"You are doing remarkably well. How do you feel?"

"Good. I thought I would be scared but I am actually enjoying myself. I'm getting pretty tired though. I think Bromnsä is tired too." She said as she patted the horse's damp neck. To Jordan's relief, Eowyn decided they had done enough for today.

"Your body will be sore. I would recommend you soak in a hot bath tonight." Eowyn told her as they led Bromnsä back into the stables and handed her off to a stable boy. Jordan could already tell as she changed back into her dress; groaning as she took her boots off. They returned to the palace with Jordan limping and leaning heavily on her cane.

"Will we see you at evening meal?"

"I don't know. Today being Highday, I might just stay in and rest."

"Very well. Tomorrow after breakfast, then, we will have our second lesson."

Jordan groaned to herself, thinking how much worse she will feel in the morning. "Okay. I'll see you then. Thank you, Eowyn."

"You are most welcome."

That evening Jordan skipped dinner; instead taking Eowyn's advice and soaking in a hot bath to sooth her sore muscles. She ached in places she didn't know could ache. Afterwards, she settled into bed and read more of The Tale of Beren and Lúthien, eventually drifting off to sleep with the book beside her.

Morning came too quickly and she cursed it, struggling to get up out of bed. She put on a simple gown and worked her hair into a braid to keep it out of her face; her muscles screaming as she held her arms up to reach behind her head. She was late for breakfast, so she wandered through the kitchen and grabbed an apple and a piece of bread on her way to the stables.

"Good morning! How do you feel?" Came Eowyn's cheerful greeting.

Jordan groaned. "I feel like I've been beaten with a stick."

"Oh, dear. Well, today will just be a short ride; concentrating on control and gaining more confidence. This time, however, you will not be wearing riding breeches." She explained as a man led their horses to them. "Each day, we will ride for an increasingly longer period of time to build up your endurance. It is a long ride to Minas Tirith."

Mounting her horse in a dress was tricky, especially with her leg muscles being so sore, but she finally got situated in the saddle and together they rode out of the stables taking the north road down into the village below. The palace sat atop a hill, just slightly above the tree line but just a short distance down the road, it became heavily forested. It was gently sloping and never took a straight course its entire length.

"Legolas was disappointed you did not come to evening meal."

"Oh." Jordan said, trying to sound indifferent. "Did you explain my absence?"

"I did, but he was disappointed nonetheless."

Jordan smiled despite herself. As they rounded the last corner at the bottom of the hill, the road flattened out and the trees gave way to a grassy plain. The little village was just up ahead. It thrilled Jordan to see a different way of life. It gave her a sense of freedom knowing there was more out there than her sheltered existence at the palace. Rustic wooden buildings lined the main road and on the outskirts lay several farms and dwellings. Horse-drawn carts were the mode of transportation as they carried goods from the outlying farms to the open-air market at the end of town. A handful of villagers were seen milling about the streets, conducting their business at the various shops. Jordan noticed each shop had a hanging wooden sign advertising their wares; butcher, blacksmith, shoemaker; there was even a small inn and tavern. Three men standing outside the tavern were not dressed in the same manner as the other villagers. Jordan recognized them as Gondorian soldiers.

"Cirion! Is that not the woman that caused us so much trouble? The one on horseback there?"

From their table, the two soldiers peered out through the glass window of the tavern at the two women passing by.

Cirion's left eye narrowed to a tiny slit as he studied her. His right eye was missing, now just an empty, scarred socket; gouged out by an Orc during his recent engagement on the border of Mordor. "That's _her_ all right." He growled.

"She cleaned up quite nice, wouldn't you say?" Ereganth commented.

Cirion took a determined drink from his mug of ale, draining it of its contents and slammed it on the table.

"Why don't you do something useful like get me another ale?" He sneered. 'Mark my words, woman. You will get what's coming to you.' He muttered to himself as they passed from his view.

By the time they returned to the palace stables, Jordan's rear was bruised and her thighs were aching.

"Same time tomorrow?"

A groan was Jordan's only reply. She didn't know how she was going to take three more days of this!  
Eowyn laughed. "It gets easier." She assured her.

This was the day she usually met with Turgon for history. It would be the last time before leaving for Minas Tirith. She received a message from him, instructing her to meet him in the library instead of Faramir's study as he would have need of it that day. She quickly bathed and changed and drug her aching body off to the library.

Turgon paced nervously by the window as Jordan read the section of the book he gave her. She could see his constant movement out of the corner of her eye, effectively distracting her.

"Is there something wrong, Turgon?"

"What? Oh…no. I was merely thinking on something I have to do today."

"Please, come sit down. You're making me nervous."

"Very well." He sat down across from her at the table, shifting around in his seat."

"We can do this another time, Turgon, if you have something else that requires your attention."

"No, no. It can wait. Considering your approaching journey to Minas Tirith, this will be particularly relevant;" he explained, pointing to the book, "the history of the Stewards." After a short pause, he said, "That pendant you wear, is it from your homeworld?"

"Yes. It was given to me by a friend of my father's."

"May I see it?"

"Sure." Jordan took off the pendant and handed it to Turgon. He turned it this way and that, studying it."

"These are strange markings." He said, noting the inscription on the sides. "Is it merely a design or do they have meaning?"

"It is the language of the D'ni."

"The book you are looking for, it is written in a language like this, yes?"

"It is. Have you seen anything like it?"

"I cannot say that I have. Though, as chief chronicler in the service of the Steward for many years and now for Prince Faramir, I have access to many a document and book. Would you mind if I copied down the markings to keep as a comparison in the event I find anything similar?"

"I don't mind. It is kind of you to offer. Thank you."

"I will be but a minute. Please, keep reading." He insisted.

"Oh, Turgon?"

He stopped and turned around. "Yes, my lady?"

"Please be careful with it. It is very special."

"I will, certainly. Do not fear."

He returned to his quarters, where he would not be seen with the strange artifact. Tearing off the corner of a piece of paper, he carefully copied the inscription in ink; duplicating the foreign characters as best he could. When he was satisfied with his work, he grabbed a book from his bookshelf, tucked it between the pages, and replaced it on the shelf. He hid the pendant in his fist and returned to the library with all haste.

"See? Safe and sound, just like I promised." He said, dangling the pendant on its chain as he held it out to her. "Now, do you have any questions about what you read?"

They had a brief discussion before Turgon concluded the lesson.

"I guess I'll see you in a few weeks."

"Have a safe journey, my lady."

They parted ways and Jordan returned to her quarters to rest.

As Faramir sat in his study writing some of the key points he would like addressed regarding the trade agreement with the Easterlings, there was a knock at the door.

"Enter." Faramir called out. He looked up from his writing to see his chief chronicler clutching a book. "Ah, Turgon, come in! What say you? Did you bring me what I asked for?"

"I do not feel right about it, deceiving her like I did, but I think I have a suitable reproduction."

"You are not doing the lady a disservice, I assure you."

Opening the book he carried, he took out a scrap of paper and laid it on Faramir's desk; the copy of the inscription on Jordan's pendant.

"Excellent. Send word to Minas Tirith. Have the archives searched for the book bearing _these_ markings." He ordered, pointing to the scrap. "Tear the place apart if you have to. If it exists, ensure that it is never found again within the city walls. The utmost discretion must be used." Faramir continued. "None must know these orders came from me."

"The lady would lose all chance of returning home. My lord, this is treachery."

"A small deceit for the greater good."

"What greater good is that?"

"The love of an Elven Prince."

Turgon sighed. "I will do as my lord commands."

125


	14. The White City

Disclaimer: All characters and places mentioned are the sole property of Cyan, Inc, J.R.R Tolkien, or Peter Jackson/New Line Cinema. This is strictly for entertainment purposes only and not based on fact. I do not profit from this story in any way.

**Chapter 12 - The White City**

Eowyn proved to be a formidable task master, pushing Jordan to her limits. One day of reprieve to rest was all she was allowed before they would depart for Minas Tirith. The soreness in Jordan's muscles had subsided somewhat; now only a dull ache when she used certain muscles. She had begun to notice other, subtler changes taking place within herself as well since coming to Middle Earth. She considered her body type 'average' before, but it had become sleeker; her muscles more defined, her skin smoother, and her hair longer and shinier. It was not just from her intensive equestrian training but her entire environment. The foods she ate here were whole foods; not processed and laden with preservatives. The air and water were free of pollutants. She no longer suffered the effects of the stress that came with her highly-demanding job.

Although these were positive changes, the reality was that life here was more physically demanding. Currently, her position in the palace gave her an advantage. There were servants to perform manual labor duties such as sustaining the garden, harvesting, and cooking the food. In the winter, they would be the ones to chop the firewood and tend the fires that warmed the palace. But what if she lost that advantage? Could she ever live self-sustainably as Maggie did in her little valley? Somehow she doubted it. She did not know what the future held for her. In two years; ten years? She could not imagine what her life would be like then, no matter how hard she tried. She had no plan, no direction. How _could_ she in a world so different from her own? Would there ever come a time when she felt like she belonged?

The nearer their departure to Minas Tirith grew, the more her excitement turned to anxiety. She just wanted to hurry there and find the linking book; to hold it, touch it; know that it is real. Then she could take comfort in the fact that the option was there to return home if she so desired. It was her father's wish that she start a new life in Middle Earth, and it was out of grief and her love for him that she did so; but was it the best decision? Perhaps there were other options that her father did not have time to explore. Sometimes it seemed the best thing to do was to leave now, before she became any more entangled in the lives of others; like Legolas. But yet, she could not bear the thought of never seeing him again. It was a difficult choice to make; one that weighed heavily on her mind. She cared about him greatly. He had rescued her; saved her life, and in her time of deepest despair, did not give up on her when she had all but given up on herself. But what is one able to give when they have lost all their faith in love? However well-intentioned Legolas was now, he could not foresee the future. There were no guarantees that circumstance would not change his thinking in the years to come. And what of Legolas' fate? For an Elf to become emotionally invested in a mortal, whether in friendship or love, was to endure heartbreak and pain. He must _know_ this. Why he wanted to pursue that path, she could not understand. Why would he be willing to take that upon himself…for her? Surely there were other female elves that would be better suited for him.

She exhaled with a heavy sigh, frustrated with her lack of clarity. She supposed it was because her body and mind were so weary that these thoughts were surfacing. Usually, she was better at suppressing them. At that moment, she heard a knock at her door. Odd. She was not expecting anyone. Upon opening it, she found it was one of the maids.

"Lady Jordan," She did a quick curtsy, "I bring a message. Lord Legolas requests that you meet him in the courtyard in one-quarter of an hour."

It was a strange request. Bewildered, she simply said, "Okay, thank you," and began to shut the door.

"Uh, Lady Jordan?"

Jordan opened the door again to see the maid looking at her expectantly.

"Yes?"

"Shall I inform him that you have accepted his request?"

"Oh…yes, of course. Thank you." She said, still somewhat confused, and shut the door. 'If he wished to speak with me, why didn't he just come himself?' She wondered. 'What could he possibly want?'

She quickly changed into the dress she had specially made with short sleeves and sat down at the vanity table to brush her hair. The seamstress had thought she was out of her mind when she asked that the dress be made in such a manner. It was not proper for a lady of the court to bare her arms in public, she told her. She still laughed when she thought of the look on the seamstress' face. 'You should see what they wear in _my_ world, lady.' She thought. She considered herself neither a 'lady of the court' nor a 'lady' for that matter and it was just too damn hot to abide by their modest way of dressing. Who knows? Maybe she'd start a trend.

She saw Legolas standing alone in the courtyard holding a basket in his hand. He wore a long white and gold tunic accented by a gold sash around his hips, breeches the color of pale champagne and brown doe skin boots that reached his knee. He bore a quiver of arrows on his back and his bow slung over his shoulder. As she approached, his smile turned to a look of puzzlement.

"What happened to your gown?" He asked, pointing to her arms.

She laughed. "You mean the sleeves? I had it made this way…much to the seamstress' dismay." She said with a smirk.

"Why?"

"Because it's summer and it's hot. The people in my world wear much less than this in the summertime. Believe me; I would be wearing much less, too, if I thought I could get away with it." She realized how that must have sounded to him after the words came out of her mouth. "Well, anyway, it was not considered immodest in my world." She added.

He stared at her arms. For a moment, he abandoned his senses and imagined what it would be like to run his fingertips across the smooth flesh that was now uncovered for his eyes to see; to press his lips to the delicate skin of the hollow of her elbow. He stopped himself before his thoughts could carry him any further, frustrated at his lack of control over them.

"Are you planning on doing some hunting?" She asked in acknowledgment of his bow.

"This?" He said, taking it off his shoulder for a moment. "No. This is for protection."

"From what?"

"One never knows. These are still dangerous times. It would be foolish to be unprepared."

"Okay. Why did you ask me here, Legolas?"

He slung the bow back over his shoulder. "A while ago, I said there was something I wanted to show you…when you recovered. It is not far and the path is not difficult. Will you come?"

"What is it?"

"You will discover _that_ when we get there." He said with a mischievous grin.

"So, you're not going to tell me?"

With the same grin, he shook his head.

"Fine, keep your secrets. Show me this 'mystery' thing of yours."

He led her out the main entrance of the palace and across the bridge that spanned the small river.

"It is not as much of a 'thing' as it is an 'occurrence'." He explained as they walked.

"Well, that narrows it down." She joked. It came to mind how strange it was. Through no fault of his own, Legolas was partly the cause of her anguish; but every time he was near, she felt at ease. Those thoughts, those feelings were forgotten. It was only after they would part company that she felt regret. Her mind warned her not to become emotionally involved with him, and the more time she spent with him, the harder that would become.

It was a battle, however, that her mind was losing, for her heart desired to let him in; to trust and care for him.

"Can you at least tell me what's in the basket?"

"I brought some food so that we may enjoy mid-day meal there."

"Oh! Like a picnic."

"A picnic?"

"Yeah. That is what it's called in my world when you take food somewhere outside to eat."

"Alright, a picnic it shall be, then!"

He had turned onto a path shortly after the bridge. It was probably a little more primitive than she was used to, but he knew better than to offer her assistance. She would refuse.

"How is your leg? Are you faring alright?"

"I'm fine, Legolas. How much further?"

"We are almost there."

She started to hear the sound of rushing water in the distance. It grew louder and louder and after passing a bend in the path, a large, very tall waterfall came into view. It emptied into a pool of blue sparkling water and then cascaded down a slope, out of sight, on the opposite side from where they were standing. As she looked up, she could see the mist caught by the sunlight refracted into a rainbow.

"Oh! It's beautiful, Legolas!" The breeze from the force of the falls sent strands of her hair billowing in all directions as the mist cooled her face. He tucked one of the loose strands behind her ear and smiled. She turned from him to take in her surroundings and he let her do so for a moment before speaking.

"Would you like to sit down and eat?"

"Sure."

He picked a spot sheltered from the sun by the high rock wall over which the water flowed, on the grassy banks of the pool. While they sat in the coolness of the shade, they snacked on fruits, bread, and cheese and drank the wine that Legolas had brought.

"Watch this." She said and tossed one of the grapes up into the air and caught it in her mouth.

Legolas grinned. "That is quite a trick. Let me try."

The first one bounced off his nose to his chagrin, eliciting laughter from Jordan. It only took a second try, however, for Legolas to master this trick. He did a few more, not missing a one.

"You're just showing off now. It took me years to learn that." She said with mock indignity and tossed a grape at him which bounced off his shoulder.

"You are starting a battle you cannot win." He said with a devious smile. As she stretched out on her side in the grass, propping herself up with her elbow, he tossed a grape back at her. It hit her stomach and bounced onto the ground. It gave her an idea.

She sat back up on her knees. "Open your mouth."

"Why?"

She plucked another grape from the cluster.

"I'll toss one to you. Don't move, okay?" She said with a laugh.

Instead of the grape landing in his mouth, it bounced off his upper lip and rolled into the pool.

"Oh!" She covered her mouth with her hands. "Oh, I'm so sorry, Legolas." She said through her laughter, as she crawled over to him. He looked displeased, but only in jest to worry her. Rising up on her knees, she touched his face and ran her thumb over his lip where the grape hit.

"I'm sorry." She said with a grin.

A smile spread across his face. "You have terrible aim."

This time they both laughed. She was so close. He could smell the fragrant oil she bathed with. Her lips were parted slightly, breathless from the laughter.

"I would like to ask you something."

She cocked her head slightly to the side and smiled. "What?" She asked, oblivious to the desire rising up in him.

"May I kiss you?" He asked softly, almost shyly.

The smile faded from her face and for a moment he thought she was angry with him. Instead of answering, she leaned into him slowly and took his bottom lip in between hers, sucking on it gently, tasting him; then moved to his top lip. She cupped the side of his face in her hand and let it slide ever so slowly down his cheek and across his jaw as she licked at his lips, tracing them with her tongue. From her knees, she sat down in the grass pulling Legolas with her, never letting her lips part with his. He pulled away and she looked at him curiously. He picked up a grape and squeezed it just enough to break the skin, letting the juice ooze out. He ran it across her parted lips, first the top one and then the bottom, applying the sweet nectar. He kissed her in the same manner she did him; sucking and teasing her lips, tasting the juice on them. When he released them, she blinked a few times, stunned. Never before had she experience something so simple but yet so sensuous.

It quickly became an awkward moment for them; neither one knew how to proceed from there. She smiled at him, eager to break the tension.

"Could you hand me my cane, please?"

As he handed it to her, he asked, "What are you going to do?"

"I'm going to go wade in the water and cool off." She answered with a grin.

"Lady Jordan, that may not be wise. The bottom is rocky and unsettled. You could fall."

She shrugged her shoulders. "Then, I will fall."

Legolas laid back down in the grass, watching her, as he popped a grape in his mouth; the taste, a reminder of their kiss.

She kicked off her shoes, gathered her skirt up in one hand, and stepped into the water; letting out a shriek at its coldness. She took small steps, each time going deeper. She would shriek each time the water touched a new part of her skin and then laugh at herself; all the while looking towards Legolas on the shore. The water was just a little above her knees now. She raised her hands in the air as if to exclaim "tah-dah", then turned to take another step, but realized she had let go of her skirt. Not wanting it to get wet, she quickly scrambled for it, throwing herself off balance. Before she even knew what was happening, Legolas was behind her, catching her as she fell backwards. Grasping her shoulders, he steadied her on her feet again but did not move from behind her. She was breathing heavy and her heart was pounding from the rush of adrenaline.

"Are you alright?"

"Yes, thank you." She panted. She started to turn around but he stopped her. He stayed closed behind her; a fingerbreadth's width away, yet his body did not touch hers. Reaching down, he dipped both hands into the water.

"Ah, Legolas, what are you doing?" She asked suspiciously. She knew he was up to something.

He brought his dripping fingertips around the front of her, to touch the top of her arms where the sleeves ended, and as the cold water trickled down her arms, he slowly traced its path with his fingertips. She leaned back against him and sucked in her breath sharply as the cold water ran down her skin. He dipped his hands in the water again but this time reversed his path starting at her wrists and gliding upward.

"You said you wanted to cool off." He responded coyly.

She shivered from his feather-light touch and the cold water. "Okay, okay, I'm cooled off." She whined.

"Good." He laughed. "Can I return you to shore now?"

Cane in one hand, Legolas holding the other, she was helped out of the rocky pool to the grassy bank. They took one look at each and laughed; they were both soaked from the waist down. Legolas sat down and removed his boots, pouring the water out of them. Jordan gathered up her skirt and rang it out by the water's edge before sitting down to face him.

"Would you like some more wine?"

"Yes, please." She said, handing her goblet to him. As he handed it back, full, she said, "Thank you for today, Legolas." She paused to take a sip of wine. "How is it you always seem to know what I need?"

"I do not. It just seemed like a good day for an excursion." In truth, he _did_ know but he couldn't explain it, at least not in a way that she may understand, so he did not speak of it. It was a thought or a feeling that would come to him seemingly from nowhere, like a whisper carried on the wind.

"That it was. After these last few days, I needed to get away for a while."

"If there are thoughts that weigh on your mind, you can always share them with me. I am more than willing to listen and perhaps I can help."

"There has just been so much to do; training with Eowyn, working with Ioreth, wondering what I should bring for the journey to Minas Tirith. It has definitely taken a toll on my body and mind."

"Your training is finished, now, and I am certain if you asked Eowyn, she would help you prepare for your journey; but that is not all, is it."

Jordan sighed. "I guess I'm just worried about going to Minas Tirith."

"I thought you were excited to go."

"I was; I am, but…"

"What is it?" He implored her, searching her face.

"I am afraid. Afraid of the disappointment that will come if I do not find the linking book there and afraid of how your friends, a king and queen no less, will react to me. What if they don't like me?"

"There are certain things in our lives that are not in our control. Only Eru knows our true destiny. If you are meant to find the book, you will find it, even if not at Minas Tirith; for often it happens that things are not revealed to us in the time we would like or expect. As for Aragorn and Arwen; they are most kind and gracious and have been my friends for many years…they will love you."

"How is it you always know just the right thing to say too?"

"You give credit where none is deserved. I simply speak what I know to be true in my life."

Legolas stretched out in the grass on his back and interlaced his finger underneath his head and with a sigh of contentment, he gazed at the sky. Jordan crawled over to the wine bottle sitting in the grass, filled hers and Legolas' goblets and scooted over to Legolas' side.

"I poured you some more wine; I'll set it in the grass beside you."

"Thank you."

Jordan laid down on her back as well, perpendicular to Legolas, resting her head on his chest.

"I'm not hurting you am I?"

"No, my lady," he smiled down at her, "'Twould not be possible."

They both lay there for some time, lulled by the sound of the waterfall. Jordan could hear Legolas' heart beating and feel the rise and fall of his chest and for some reason, it was a comfort to her. After a while, Legolas lifted his head, reached for his goblet and took an awkward sip of wine. He left the hand that held his wine goblet outstretched on the grass. Jordan took it in her own, running her fingers in between his and tracing lazy patterns in his palm.

"Will you tell me about your childhood?"

Their fingers played and danced together as he spoke of the early years of Eryn Lasgalen, then called Greenwood, how the shadow of Sauron covered the land and how evil creatures came to dwell in the woods, the moving of the kingdom into a network of caves in the hills near the Forest River, and how he trained as a warrior from a young age and learned how to defend his homeland.

"I'm so sorry, Legolas. It does not sound like your childhood was a very happy one."

"Perhaps, but it is all I have ever known."

"Yes, but to have to hide in the hills, fending off horrible, evil creatures all the time? I could not imagine what that must have been like."

"It was what I was trained to do. I do not fear death."

"What do you mean death? You're immortal; you can't die."

"Aye, my lady, we can. Though not affected by sickness or aging, our bodies cannot withstand grievous injury such as can be sustained in battle any more than a mortal's. I have lost many of my kin in this manner over the ages."

The implication of this started to become clear in her mind. "And yet, you are left to linger on…forever." Her voice trailed off.

She felt a profound sadness for Legolas as well as the Elven race as a whole. All throughout history, the people of her world have sought ways to achieve immortality; from the explorers of long ago searching for the fountain of youth to the life-extending efforts of modern medicine. The notion of immortality was looked upon as glorious and romantic. How could they know the consequences of their desires when they had no reference? She had seen its effects firsthand and it was neither glorious nor romantic, it was a curse!

"It is hard for me to imagine what it would be like to be immortal." She said sadly.

"Sometimes it is a burden in many ways. But let us speak of other things lest we taint the beauty here with such dark thoughts."

"I'm sorry, Legolas. I did not mean for the conversation to turn to such a depressing subject."

He brought her hand to his lips and kissed it. "No, you do not offend, my lady. I find your curiosity about our ways endearing."

The fact that he was not some indestructible force gave him a certain fragility; made him more…human in her eyes.

They lay with each other, quiet, unmoving, there on the grassy bank; fingers still entwined, until the sun hung low on the horizon.

"I do not want you to leave Middle Earth." Legolas said; his tone quiet and serious.

She squeezed her eyes shut against the stab of pain that came in knowing how it would hurt him if she did. Hearing him speak those words made the decision she faced that much more difficult.

"I know." She said sympathetically. "Nothing is certain, yet."

Legolas was silent for a long while, then he spoke. "We should return to the palace. Daylight is waning and dusk will be fast approaching."

Legolas finished his wine, rinsed the goblets out in the water, and packed everything back in the basket.

"Aw, I don't want to leave this place."

"Nor I; though it would be difficult to take up residence here." He said with a grin. "I would have you see the Elven colony where I live. This place pales in comparison."

"That good, huh?"

"Indeed."

The sun was just beginning to set; shining its brilliant rays through the trees. They talked as they made their way back to the palace, enjoying this last little bit of time together.

"Shh. There she is!" Ereganth whispered to Cirion. They ducked down lower in the bushes behind a tree.

"Damn. She's _always_ with that Elf!" Cirion growled. "I shall have to find a time when she is alone." He stared at her as one would stalk their prey; dark, vicious, devoid of all emotion.

From the first day Cirion saw her riding past the Red Arrow Inn, they had been tracking her movements. Ereganth was beginning to see the first signs of Cirion's twisted obsession and he feared for himself should he ever try to go against him. Never before had he seen this look upon Cirion's face; it frightened him and a most disturbing thought came into his head.

"You do not intend to _kill_ her…do you?"

For a moment, Cirion did not respond. When he turned to Ereganth, his expression was normal once again.

"No…no, of course not. I just want to teach her a lesson; scare her, that's all." But there was no mistaking the glint of evil that flashed in his eye. The pair retreated silently into the woods and back towards the village.

As Jordan and Legolas walked arm-in-arm up to the palace, Eowyn came running toward them.

"Where have you been all day? I have been searching everywhere for you!"

Their appearance was disheveled. Dust from the path had clung to the damp fabric of the hem of Jordan's dress, forming mud. Legolas' boots and breeches were also smudged with dirt. Jordan's hair was in tangles and the sleeves were missing from her dress.

"What has happened to you? Good gracious! Were you attacked? Jordan, what happened to your dress?"

Jordan and Legolas looked at each other and laughed.

"No, my lady Eowyn, we have spent the day at a nearby waterfall," he looked at Jordan again and smiled, "having a picnic."

"So, you were not attacked?" Eowyn said, exasperated that her worry was for nothing.

"Well, I _was_ struck in the face by an errant grape." Legolas said in mock seriousness.

Jordan slapped his arm. "I told you I was sorry!"

"At least I was compensated for that indignity."

Jordan held her hand up. "I fell in."

"I saved her."

They both erupted into laughter again. Jordan felt like she was being scolded by her mother which made her laugh more.

"As for my dress, it came this way."

"Have you gathered anything to take to Minas Tirith?" Eowyn asked Jordan.

"Uh, no."

"That is what I thought." Eowyn huffed. She grabbed Jordan by the hand and dragged her off towards the palace. Eowyn glanced back at Legolas and yelled, "We ride at dawn."

Jordan looked back at Legolas, grinned sheepishly and waved goodbye. He waved back, still standing in the place where he was left.

As they walked, Jordan leaned in to Eowyn and whispered, "I had the most wonderful time."

Stars were still visible in the lightening sky, when Jordan felt someone waking her.

"My lady, you must wake up. We are waiting for you," came Legolas' voice from the dark.

She groaned and pulled the covers over her head. "What time is it?"

"It is near dawn."

He lit a candle and set it on the side table next to her bed.

"I will wait outside while you ready yourself."

"You don't have to. You've seen me in worse states."

She peeled back the covers and swung her legs around over the edge of the bed. There she sat; head drooped, eyes closed, with the subtle sway of a sleepy hazy.

"Lady Jordan?"

"Huh? Okay, I'm awake." She groaned.

Legolas handed her cane to her. Grabbing the dress Eowyn picked out for her the night before from the wardrobe, she padded off to the bathing chamber to change.

The sky had lightened further and the stars had faded but it was still dim in Jordan's quarters. Legolas went around and lit the rest of the candles, so that she would be able to see. When she returned to the great room, she sat down at the vanity and brushed her hair. She quickly wove it into a loose braid, securing the end with a small strip of leather.

"Alright, I think I'm ready."

"Where are your bags?"

"In the corner, by the door."

"I will carry them for you."

"Okay, thank you, Legolas." She said, yawning.

As they walked through the quiet, torch-lit corridors, their footsteps echoed off the stone walls. Jordan noticed Legolas was dressed differently than she had seen him before. He wore a dark outer tunic of what looked like suede belted at the waist, some type of leather wrist guards, with his bow and quiver slung on his back.

Just outside the palace, Eowyn and Faramir were mounted and ready while two other horses stood, awaiting their riders. Faramir, like Legolas, wore an outer leather vest emblazoned with an ornate silver tree, leather vambraces on his forearms, and a sword at his side. They waved as Legolas approached with Jordan ambling slowly behind him; bleary-eyed and still half asleep.

"We were beginning to think we would be riding without you, Lady Jordan." Faramir quipped.

"I'm not much of a morning person." She said in a sleepy drawl.

"What is a 'morning person'?"

Sighing, she closed her eyes. "Exactly."

Eowyn could not help but laugh at Jordan's nonsensical reasoning. Legolas quickly secured his and Jordan's bags to the horses' saddles.

"Come my lady," Legolas beckoned, "I will help you on your horse."

By the muted light of dawn, she could not see clearly, but the horse she was to ride seemed familiar to her.

"Bromnsä!" Jordan exclaimed with relief.

"Yes." Eowyn replied. "I thought it was the best match since you seem comfortable with each other."

Legolas took Jordan's cane and slid it underneath the straps that held her bags to the saddle. To his surprise, she did not need any help mounting Bromnsä; she was well practiced, so he stood by in case she slipped.

"That's right." Jordan scratched Bromnsä between the ears, "Bromnsä and I are old friends, aren't we?"

In one smooth motion, Legolas mounted his own horse. Faramir looked around; everyone was ready.

"To Minas Tirith!" He proclaimed.

The first rays of sun were just beginning to spill over the horizon as the four passed through the gates of the palace, crossed the bridge, and set off down the road that would lead them to the White City.

Jordan could feel the excitement and anticipation slowly building inside her once again; renewed by Legolas' reassurance that everything would work out the way it is supposed to. All she needed to do was to let go and trust in that. She could see more clearly now, what Legolas wore. He looked like he was ready to do battle; dressed in the colors of the forest. He sat up straight and proud; his presence commanding; he would make a formidable foe, but he was beautiful all the same.

(To listen to the soundtrack for this section, visit this chapter at elvenladyofithilien dot com)

The wooded road was quiet and peaceful; the only sound the horses' hooves and the occasional trill of a bird. Faramir led and Legolas took up the rear, keeping the women between them protected, though nothing could dare spoil a morning such as this. The sky; a stained glass ceiling of the richest blue unmarred by even the faintest wisp of cloud and as the sun rose higher, beams of light pierced the forest canopy turning the drops of dew on the leaves to beads of crystal. It seemed everywhere that Jordan looked, there was something wondrous to behold; the delicate carpet of pale violet flowers that covered the forest floor, the way the light illuminated the trees where it touched, as if they were lit from within; a giant sword fern sprouting from an old stump spilling over its sides here, an occasional waterfall there.

Onward they pressed keeping a steady but gentle pace climbing and descending the rolling hills of Emyn Arnen. The sun was overhead when they finally came to where the road would make its final descent, leaving the hills behind, and empty out onto the sweeping plains. Minas Tirith was again within sight but remained in the distance against the base of Mount Mindolluin. From there, they would cross the Anduin at Osgilliath and pass through the Pelennor fields but for now they took a short reprieve, while still in the cool shelter of the trees, to rest the horses and take mid-afternoon meal.

"The hour will be late when we arrive, but after we have taken our rest and the morrow comes, I will take you to meet my brother, Eomer." Eowyn told Jordan.

"But he is of Rohan is he not? I thought this meeting only concerned Gondor."

Faramir answered her. "Aragorn has summoned the kings of _all_ nearby realms including Rohan as it lies in the path of one of the trade route; as well, he values Eomer's counsel on this matter."

"It sounds like this is going to be quite an affair; with royalty abound. I hold no status. I'm afraid I'm going to feel a bit out of place."

"Nonsense. You are among friends; an honored guest. You do not need any status." Eowyn said.

"If you say so." Jordan said, not fully convinced. "I look forward to meeting your brother."

"I must remind you, Eowyn; there may not be much time for reunions. Eomer will be caught up in counsel for a good many hours of the day, as we will be." He motioned to himself and Legolas. "You will have to find ways to occupy yourselves, although I do not think you will find it difficult. There will be many women in the same circumstance."

The thought of Jordan meeting Eomer troubled Legolas somewhat. He held Eomer in the highest regard but, alas, he was a king who had yet to find a queen. There stood a chance they may take an interest in one another. Legolas could not lay claim to Jordan's heart and no oath had she sworn to him; if this was the course she chose, he would have to let her go.

"Faramir, we should continue on if we want to make Minas Tirith before nightfall." Legolas said.

"You are right, my friend. Let us gather our things and be off, shall we?"

Reaching the eastern side of Osgilliath, Jordan looked around, aghast. What looked like a great city at one time was now in ruins.

"_This_ is Osgilliath? What happened here? It looks like it has been bombed!" She said in disbelief.

"Bombed? What is this term you speak of?" Legolas asked.

"It is a weapon of war in my world. It's like an explosion; shattering its target to pieces and causing fire and destruction."

Faramir and Legolas looked at each other with the same thought in mind.

"Helm's Deep." Legolas said. Faramir nodded in agreement. Rumor had spread about the terrifying new weapon of the enemy and those who heard rejoiced that its creator had perished.

"No such weapon was used here, but a great many other implements of destruction were brought down upon this city. For years it has suffered countless enemy attacks. The fact that even one building remains is a testament to the craftsmen who built it. What you see now is an improvement. Much has been rebuilt; including the bridge we are about to cross." Faramir said.

It was hard to imagine this city looking any _worse_. It gave Jordan a sense of just how huge and fierce this war had been. Its effects were far-reaching; nothing was left untouched.

The sun had disappeared behind the Tower of Ecthelion casting a long shadow across the land when they crossed the Anduin River and entered into the western side of Osgilliath. Here the damage was not as severe. The debris had been cleared away and numerous buildings had already been restored or were in the process. They came upon a group of such craftsmen as they wound through the city. As they approached, the men recognized Faramir immediately and ceased their work. They stood at attention out of respect for Faramir until his party had passed by. Faramir nodded to them in turn. Although Gondor now had a king, Faramir was well loved by the people. He was allowed to keep his title as Steward and served as high counselor to King Elessar.

"You see? The work continues every day until the city is rebuilt." Faramir commented.

Upon leaving Osgilliath, they stopped at the edge of the Pelennor fields. Faramir turned to the group, his head held high. They all had suffered much; himself on a personal level as well as a city and as a people, but yet they remained; they survived. They would flourish and his heart swelled with pride.

"There she is in all her glory…Minas Tirith, the White City."

Eowyn turned to Jordan with a mischievous grin. "Are you ready to run?"

Before Jordan could react, Eowyn spurred her horse and he sprang forward with great speed towards the city. Jordan took off close behind her and together they raced across the fields. The women were no more than a blur of color streaking across the plain by the time Legolas and Faramir, taken by surprise, galloped away after them.

The sun now had passed behind the Tower and came out the other side bursting forth with a blinding light that covered the fields like fire. The wind sang loudly in Jordan's ears and drowned out all else except for the pounding of her heart and the horses' hooves hammering the ground. Jordan's loose braid had come undone and her hair flew wildly behind her like a banner unfurled and caught in the breeze. At break-neck speed they raced and Jordan felt such freeness and elation, the likes of which a bird may feel soaring over the mountaintops, but also terror, and all at the same time. The man and elf were coming upon the women quickly, ready to overtake them. Out of the corner of her eye, Jordan could see Legolas pulling up along side her. She glanced quickly at him, smiled, and urged her horse on faster, laughing as she did.

The great walls of the city and Mount Mindolluin loomed overhead higher and higher the closer they came. Just as the sun sank behind the White Mountains for the last time, and the sky faded to dusk, did they reached the gate, checking their speed as they approached. The enormous iron gate opened slowly and the group went forth into the city; and with a heavy clang it closed behind them.

The guard proclaimed loudly for everyone to hear, "The Son of Gondor has returned!" Everyone came out of their homes and shops, gathering on the streets to watch and wave as he passed by. Escorted by an entourage of guards, they were ushered to the stables to board their weary horses and, at last, shown the way to their quarters to rest and recover from their long journey.


	15. Reunion

Disclaimer: All characters and places mentioned are the sole property of Cyan, Inc., J.R.R. Tolkien, or Peter Jackson/New Line Cinema. This is strictly for entertainment purposes and not based on fact. I do not profit from this story in any way.

**Chapter 13 - Reunion**

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The city was nothing like Jordan had envisioned. Nothing prepared her for the sheer magnitude of its dizzying height. The masses of towers and dwelling stacked on top of each other like bricks, stretching towards the heavens, were too overwhelming for the eye to take in. To look up at them almost made her ill. So small was she in comparison; she felt as if the great walls would engulf her and swallow her up.

Sometime between the setting of the sun and the lighting of the lanterns, the shadows began to deepen in the recesses of the alleyways veiling the ghostly white stone. In the growing dusk, they were led upwards through the streets of Minas Tirith, level by level. The fanfare had died off and except for the clattering of horse hooves on the cobblestones, an eerie silence fell over the city as the people closed their shops for the evening and retired to their homes.

Passing through yet another gate, the group emerged on to the sixth level where the lighting of the lanterns had commenced. The firelight shimmered and licked at the pale walls; bathing them in an orange glow and giving the city a surreal appearance. As they continued their ascent of the sixth level, up ahead on the east side of the street, Jordan noticed a building with arches and columns at its entrance. It was larger than the ones that surrounded it and as they approached, Jordan noticed a garden area behind the building, perched high above the level below. The only reason she could see what it was is that it was lit by tall torches embedded in the ground. However, it was not a typical garden for there was no earth to grow plants in. Instead, raised beds had been created with blocks of carved stone and filled in with soil. The beds formed ornate geometrical patterns with colored pebbles and glass covering the ground in between that shimmered when they caught the torch light. A garden of stone for a city of stone.

"What is that place?" Jordan asked out loud to no one in particular, pointing towards the building.

"It is the Houses of Healing." Legolas answered.

"It is where Faramir and I first met." Eowyn added as she gave her husband a loving glance.

As they passed the Houses of Healing, Jordan looked back and saw that on this side, the garden area extended past the building into a small courtyard with a fountain that was accessible from the street. She decided that tomorrow she would have to take a closer look.

It was on this level just past the Houses of Healing that they came to the stables. As Jordan dismounted her horse, it quickly became known just how stiff and sore her muscles were from the long ride. She groaned as she finally stood on solid ground again.

"Agh, I'm never going to walk right again!"

Legolas gave her a sympathetic smile as he unfastened her bags from the saddle.

"It may not seem so now, but I assure you, after a night's rest, you will feel better."

After the horses were unburdened of their loads and boarded in the stables, the four were approached by a nondescript middle-aged man with graying hair dressed in the garb of a servant of Minas Tirith.

"My lords and ladies, if you will follow me, I will show you to your quarters."

He led them down an alleyway off the main street, up a long flight of stairs, finally turning down a narrow dead end corridor lined with many identical wooden doors on the left side. The man stopped halfway to the end of the corridor, turned to face the doors and started to count them, mumbling the numbers out loud.

"Ah, yes, here we are."

He opened one door to its fullest, banging it on the stone wall behind it; then the one next to it.

"Here are your quarters."

The four stopped abruptly, looking at each other in confusion.

"Ah…" Jordan started to speak up.

"My good sir, these are but two rooms." Faramir began.

"Yes?"

"We require three."

"My lord, I was told two couples, two rooms."

Jordan's eyes widened. "No, no, we are not tog…" Jordan started to say, motioning to herself and Legolas, but her voice was drowned out by Faramir's.

"Look, we are all very tired; now open another room, so that we may get settled."

"But…but my lord, there _are_ no other rooms available!" The man stammered.

"Sir, this is unacceptable!" Faramir stepped threateningly towards the man and he shrank in fear.

Legolas quickly stepped in between them and put his hand on Faramir's shoulder. "Faramir, truly, it is fine. We can make do with what we have. There is naught that can be done about it tonight."

Amidst the commotion, a soldier had approached the quarreling group.

"Prince Faramir?" He interjected, bowing respectfully.

"Yes, what is it?" Faramir replied crossly.

"My lord, I bring tidings from King Elessar. The king and queen request that you break fast with them in their private chambers at the tolling of the second bell."

Faramir sighed and ran his fingers through his hair. "Yes, fine. Inform them we will acquiesce to their request." He said somewhat irritatedly and waved him off. The soldier left in a hurry, eager to be out of the midst of whatever argument was ensuing.

"Is the situation agreeable to all?"

"Faramir, it's fine, really." Jordan assured him. "Legolas is right. There is nothing that can be done about it tonight."

He nodded in acceptance. "Alright then, I will see you in the morning."

He entered the quarters closest to him, with Eowyn right behind him, and shut the door.

Legolas took up his and Jordan's belonging and went into the quarters that they would now have to share. Their plight, however, was temporarily forgotten as Jordan admired her accommodations. It was a rather small, but richly decorated room with a large, soft bed, stone fireplace, and a single chair in the corner, but it was the balcony that was the crown jewel. At the sixth level, it hovered high over the city. Anything beyond the city was shrouded in a curtain of utter darkness but she was certain in the daylight, one could look out over Pelennor fields, if not see all the way to Osgilliath from here.

Legolas, after setting his bow and quiver in the corner and unpacking a few essential needs, joined Jordan on the balcony.

"It's beautiful." Jordan said turning to him.

He smiled but said nothing. To have no understanding of events passed was a luxury he did not have. The images his mind conjured as he looked off into the distance were not of beauty but ones of death and destruction. They were burned into his memory, forever tainting whatever beauty this place held.

"I'm sorry." Jordan said.

"What do you have to be sorry for?"

"You know, the whole room mix-up."

"The mistake was not your own. There is no need to be sorry. If anything, it is I who should be asking your forgiveness for encroaching on your privacy."

"Oh, Legolas, there is no need to worry." She chided his chivalrousness. "I do not think of it as such nor does your presence here offend me."

She walked back into the room to unpack her sleeping gown and get ready for bed. Legolas followed her in.

"So, um, where are we each going to sleep?" She asked. She assumed they would have to share the single bed; not that she minded for practicality's sake, it would be selfish to take the entire bed forcing Legolas to sleep on the hard stone floor, but she wanted to throw the question out and hear his thoughts first.

Looking around, he said with absolution, "I will take the chair."

"You can't sleep in a chair!"

"My lady, I assure you I can. I have slept in far worse places."

Jordan sat down on the edge of the bed, testing the feel of the mattress.

"You know…we could just share the bed; just for sleeping. It is big enough. Besides, it is not like we, ah, haven't already shared, um, a certain level of intimacy."

She was somewhat shy about bringing to light their previous interludes; partly because of her modest nature and partly because they were at that awkward stage where one has moved past the boundaries of friendship but not yet to the point of securing a relationship.

He smiled at her reticence. "Your offer is very generous, but I am afraid I must decline. To lay with another and share one's bed before marriage is forbidden amongst my people."

"Even just to sleep?"

"Aye. It is considered improper and gives way to possible temptation, so it should be avoided."

She bit her lip.

_Oh. Dear. God. If it is forbidden just to simply lie in the same bed with a woman, then he most certainly has never had…Oh. My. God._

She _had_, however…with Christian. Premarital sex was just something that was widely accepted and practiced in her world. She gave herself to Christian; it was what men expected; it was what society expected, and look what happened. It bonded her to him physically and emotionally, but without the bond of marriage, it only gave rise to conflict and complication and made it all the more painful when he chose to leave. His people probably faired better holding to a more virtuous custom. The ideation had once been a tradition in her world, but mainstream society had increasingly moved away from it in favor of a more self-indulgent lifestyle. She suddenly felt ashamed of her past; ashamed of her weakness. What would Legolas think of her if he ever found out? She would be tainted in his eyes; unworthy of his purity. Her heart sank as this realization made itself known.

"Are you alright, my lady?"

"Yes." She forced herself to suppress these disquieting thoughts and stood up quickly, her sleeping gown balled up in her fists. "I'm sorry; I hope I have not offended you. I know what you must think of me."

He stepped close to her, put his arms around her loosely and kissed her forehead. Releasing her, he said, "No, my lady, you were just trying to be helpful. I know your heart is pure."

She tightened her grip on her sleeping gown.

"I'm going to go change."

She rushed off to the bathing chamber and shut the door. Thankfully, it had a door. She hugged her sleeping gown to her chest and leaned her forehead against the door while a tear slipped down her cheek, splashing onto the cold stone floor below.

_My heart is pure, but my body is not._

She had just come to the point where she was beginning to acknowledge and accept her own feelings for Legolas. It had been a difficult emotional and mental struggle to loosen her hold on the old convictions she clung to and now it had been for nothing. If she was to allow their relationship to grow, she would have to, at some point, tell him about her past. It would be unconscionable not to do so; but what was the point when afterwards he would certainly cast her aside? This just confirmed the fact that she had been right all along; it was better to remain alone and not get involved with anyone. She would have to end it between her and Legolas, now, before things went any further, and the best way to do that was to find the linking book and leave Middle Earth.

She numbly changed into her sleeping gown and left her dress crumpled on the floor of the bathing chamber without thought or care.

Legolas looked up when she emerged from the bathing chamber. He had begun to worry; she had been in there much longer that the time it took to change clothing. The expression she wore was like a mask; a painted-on emotion, but did little to hide the truth and only confirmed his suspicions.

"I sense a change within you. Has something happened?"

"No, Legolas." She managed a weak smile. "I'm just tired. I'm really tired. I'm going to go to sleep now, if you don't mind."

"Nay, my lady, I do not mind."

She did not wait for Legolas to even finish his sentence; but immediately slipped underneath the covers, lying on her side with her back towards him, so that he could not see the tears that escaped her corners of her eyes, wetting the pillow.

"You do as your…needs suit you." His voice trailed off for it appeared she was no longer listening.

Legolas blew out all but one candle and sat in the chair by the empty, darkened fireplace. By the faint candlelight he watched her as she slept; wondering what could have possibly happened to account for this change in her demeanor. Did she really think that she had offended him with her offer to share the bed? It was at that moment, he pinpointed, that the change had occurred. Somehow, though, he felt it was more than that. He sensed that she had become entangled and pulled down into her own darkness again for reasons he could not understand.

It was an hour or so before dawn. Legolas checked one last time to make sure Jordan was still asleep, and slipped out the door. He made his way silently through the corridor and out on to the main street, taking the tunnel to the seventh level gate. After identifying himself to the guards, he was allowed passage. He continued on down the battlement to the Seat. It sat high atop the rock outcropping that bisected the city and formed the easternmost tip of the seventh level. From here, one could look out over Pelennor fields, Osgilliath, even as far as the border of Mordor, but right now, all Legolas could see were stars.

To look upon Mordor and see nothing was a comfort. There was no fiery eruption from Mt. Doom; there were no clouds that veiled it in a blackness darker than night; no evil emanating from its lands. It was dead; and the white tree lived. For all his troubled thoughts tonight, it brought him a sense of peace. He stood there gazing out over the land until the sky had begun to lighten and the stars fade. It was then that Legolas heard footsteps approaching from behind. He stole a quick and subtle glance over his shoulder. The person was a man, still a ways off, wearing a hooded cloak, but walking down the battlement right in Legolas' direction. Legolas was unarmed but he readied himself to fight should the need arise. He kept his back to the man, appearing unaware of his presence, but his keen hearing allowed him to track the movements and distance of the man. The man was about fifteen feet away now; Legolas was just about to turn around and face the man when he heard him stop abruptly.

"Legolas?"

Legolas turned around and the man removed his hood.

"Aragorn!"

"It is good to see you, old friend." Aragorn said with a wide grin.

They grasped each other's shoulder in greeting and Aragorn grabbed up his long lost comrade roughly and squeezed him, slapping him on the back.

"You are the last person I expected to see here. What are you doing out here?" Aragorn asked.

"I could ask the same of you." Legolas answered, grinning back.

Aragorn held up his pipe. "I come out here to smoke; I do not wish to subject Arwen to it. As well, it is peaceful and the view is not bad." He quipped.

"How is Arwen?"

"She is well. She is eager to see you. Well, eager to see _any_ elf. It is hard on her sometimes, being away from her people."

"Oh, I see. So it does not matter who I am, just that I am an elf." Legolas teased.

Aragorn laughed heartily.

"So, Legolas, word has reached my ears that you travel with a mortal woman. I must say I am quite surprised. Has the mighty elf warrior found love at last and ready to settle into family life?"

"That did not take long. You are as bad as a gossip-mongering old crone. Is not ruling a kingdom enough to fill your time?" Legolas joked.

"Yet you do not deny it."

"I am sorry to disappoint you. You have drawn the wrong conclusion." Legolas said with a smile, happy to smite his friend.

"Truly? So, you have not found love?"

"Nay." It wasn't a lie necessarily. What Aragorn alluded to, assumed both parties to be equally in love. He did desire and care for Jordan, but love? Legolas could not be certain if love would ever exist between them.

"But you _do_ travel here with a woman."

"Aye."

"Is that all you have to say on it, then?"

"Aye." Legolas smirked. He knew curiosity was getting the best of the man.

"I _could_ have you strung up and dragged through the streets of Minas Tirith. Perhaps that would loosen your tongue."

"And incur the wrath of an Elven King for the ill treatment of his son?" Legolas threw his head back and laughed. "I think not. 'Twould be a very unwise move on the part of a newly-crowned king. Besides, I have seen his wrath firsthand. I tell you truly, it is not a mistake you will make again." He jabbed his fingers into Aragorn's chest and pushed him backwards.

"It sounds like an Elven Princeling was once on the receiving end of said wrath! Do tell." Aragorn kicked at Legolas but he quickly moved to the side and out of range.

"How do you think it came to be that _I_ was made to represent Mirkwood at the counsel after Gollum's escape?" Legolas retorted with a devious grin. The two began to circle each other.

"Ha! Do not play _me_ for a fool! Your father's guards would have had to hold you down kicking and screaming to keep you from the chance to prove your valor!"

Aragorn threw a punch at Legolas catching him in the chest. In turn, Legolas swept his leg out knocking Aragorn off his feet and he landed on his back with a heavy thud. Aragorn groaned, his chest heaving, but it quickly dissolved into laughter. Legolas stood at Aragorn's feet, hovering over him; gloating in his victory. Finally, he held his hand out.

"Do you yield?"

Aragorn said nothing but grasped Legolas' outstretched hand. With a mighty tug, he sent Legolas flying head-over-heels onto the hard stones that paved the battlement. Now both man and elf lay upon their backs, laughing at their adolescent behavior.

They each got up on their own recognizance, neither trusting the other's assistance, and brushed the dust off their garments. Legolas clapped Aragorn on the back as they walked towards the low wall near the Seat. Legolas sat down with a heavy sigh and stared out across Pelennor fields. Morning was near. The sun had not yet risen over the White Mountains but the countryside was awash with a faint light. He hoped that it would find the Lady Jordan renewed in body and spirit and that whatever ailed her last night would not linger.

Aragorn took out his pipe and pouch, put a pinch of pipeweed in the chamber, and lit it; inhaling deeply. After a few slow draws off his pipe, Aragorn spoke.

"You are troubled, my old friend."

"I care about her greatly, Aragorn." Legolas began.

"I gathered as much." He said understandingly. "I had a feeling there was more to the story than you were previously willing to impart."

"But, by the Valar, she confounds me!"

"Such is the nature of a female, Legolas." Aragorn mused.

"One moment she is eager for my company and the next she withdraws from me, closing herself off completely. And yet it is in these times, I feel drawn to her like a moth to a flame."

"They will set your head spinning and cause your heart to burn, all at the same time." Aragorn knew better than to prod the elf for information when he did not offer it freely. Legolas would make it known when he was ready, so he simply listened and shared his observations. Although his choosing of a mortal woman concerned Aragorn, he was certainly not in a position to judge.

"I do not know what I am doing, Aragorn. I have no experience in such matters." He threw his hands in the air in frustration.

"Do you _love_ her?"

"Love? I do not know. How does one know for certain?"

Aragorn laughed. "You will know, Legolas, you will know. When the spark is kindled, you will see it plainly as if there was never a time it did _not_ exist."

Legolas wished he could share with Aragorn the circumstances in which they met and the mystery of her origins because it would certainly shed new light on the issues he was facing, but he could not. There were already too many people with whom the knowledge had been given and should it be made known to the wrong person, it could prove ill for Jordan.

The tolling of the first bell commenced marking the beginning of the day. Aragorn stood up, tapped the ashes out of his pipe, and tucked it under his belt.

"We will have to continue this conversation at a later time. I must return home. Arwen will be waking soon, if she is not already. You are joining us for breakfast are you not?"

The two walked back towards the Citadel as they talked.

"Aye."

"Will your 'mystery woman' be accompanying you?"

"Her name is Jordan and I cannot say. She was not well last night."

"Well, I hope the morning finds her recovered. I would very much like to meet her."

"We shall see. Farewell, Aragorn."

"Farewell."

Jordan woke to a sound similar to an old church bell echoing throughout the city. Looking around the room in the faint light, she saw that it was empty. She threw the covers back, slipped out of bed, and looked around the room before wandering out to the balcony. She half expected to see Legolas standing there; always preferring the outdoors to the in, but it too was vacant; Legolas was gone. She flopped down on one of the cold stone benches, pulled her sleeping gown over her legs, and looked down over the city. It was just barely dawn, and although Mount Mindolluin cast a heavy shadow, it was light enough to see out across the Pelennor fields. Today could be the last day spent in Middle Earth. The thought sent a wave of nausea coursing through her body. For so long had she struggled with the choice of remaining in Middle Earth; rationalizing it; repudiating it; cursing her indecisiveness.

It was the day spent at the waterfall with Legolas which solidified her decision in that she would stay. Something happened with Legolas that she never thought she would experience - she was beginning to trust again. Maybe it was because he was so different from the men of her world in his way of life and belief system; she could not say for sure, but something in her heart told her that it was _okay_ to trust him; that his motives were pure and not self-serving. So she started to open her heart to him and the wall she had surrounded herself with for so long began to buckle and with his gentle and kind manner; his loving and sensuous touch, he began to deconstruct it piece by piece. The result was something remarkable. She began to feel again. She felt alive for the first time in many years and although Legolas and she were very different, her eyes were opened to the possibility that they could build a future together. Now that future, and in fact, _any_ future in Middle Earth was gone. She was not who or what Legolas thought she was. She would have a very difficult life ahead of her unless she eventually found a spouse and whether man or elf, they would expect that she be pure and unspoiled.

She had to leave; she was left with little choice. After finding the courage to finally let someone in, and after allowing herself to feel and to care for someone, she could not face Legolas' inevitable rejection. But how would she go about it? Should she be allowed to search the archives today, she could potentially have the book in her hand by this evening; possibly even this very afternoon! Should she disappear without a word, without a trace? Should she confide in one to share the news once she had gone? Who would that be, perhaps Eowyn? One fact was certain - she could not say goodbye to Legolas and this was the worst part of all. He would try and convince her to stay…and by what reasoning could she justify her decision in his eyes?

Legolas slipped in through the door of the guest quarters quietly so as not to wake Jordan. After closing the door behind him, he turned and found the bed to be empty and unmade. Panic welled up within him but was quickly dowsed as he spotted a small figure on the balcony. She was sitting on one of the stone benches, knees hugged to her chest and her sleeping gown pulled over her legs. Her chin rested upon her knees as she stared out over the city.

He came up behind her and laid his hand on her shoulder.

"Good morning." Legolas said quietly.

The city below still held her gaze, but she reached up, covered his hand with hers, and rested her cheek on it.

"Good morning, Legolas."

_One more day. We can pretend for one more day that everything is okay, can't we?_

"How long have you been awake?"

"Not long." She released his hand and turned to look up at him. "Where did you go?"

"Oh. I did not feel like sleeping, so I took a walk up to the seventh level to sit for a while."

"See? I told you, you couldn't sleep in that chair."

"It was not that I could not, I simply chose not to. I did not require rest."

"How could you not be tired after that long journey?"

"Elves do not tire as easily as mortals, my lady," he said with a smile, "but if it will satisfy you, I will speak with Aragorn about procuring an additional room before nightfall so that I will have a proper bed."

He was teasing her now. It did not matter to him whether or not he had a proper bed to sleep in if he so needed to, but mortals were so peculiar about such things.

"Good." She said folding her arms across her chest; certain she had won some battle.

"It pleases me to see that you are feeling better."

"What do you mean?"

"Last night. You acted strangely. I thought perhaps you were unwell."

_You see too much._

"No, Legolas. I told you, I was just tired."

"Perhaps I was mistaken, then."

_I am lost... drowning._

"I do not mean to rush you, my lady, but Aragorn and Arwen will be expecting us to join them for breakfast soon. You must get yourself ready. The first bell has already rung."

It suddenly came back to her; the soldier and his message; meeting the king and queen for breakfast at the second bell. With all of the turmoil last night, she had forgotten.

"Oh my, I had forgotten!"

She grabbed her cane and rushed inside. Her stomach was churning as she rummaged through her bags to find an appropriate gown. She finally decided on the sapphire velvet gown Eowyn had given her and shook it out, inspecting it for wrinkles.

"Legolas! What am I going to do?" She asked frantically.

"What do you mean? Have you forgotten how to dress yourself?"

"No, about meeting Aragorn and Arwen, the king and queen! What am I going to say? What am I going to do? What if they ask me questions I cannot answer?" She lamented.

Legolas came over and put his hands on her shoulders.

"Do not worry so, my lady. Everything will be fine. You will see. Perhaps it would help if you did not think of them as a king and queen, but just as old friends." He offered. "And as for your history, we will simply tell them that you came from South Ithilien, because that is where I found you, and that you have come looking for a book that belonged to your family."

"Will they be satisfied with that?"

"For now. Now go get dressed."

He turned her around and shooed her off to the bathing chamber.

When she came out, she had her arms contorted behind her back almost comically, struggling with the laces.

"Legolas! I have no attendants and I can't reach the ties. You're going to have to help me!" She said in a frenzy.

He chuckled. "Such a fuss you are making! Turn around."

He gathered her hair, moved it in front of her shoulder, and with strong fingers he cinched up the crisscrossing laces, eliciting a gasp as the fabric constricted her lungs. He tied the laces at the base of her neck and swept her hair back.

He pulled the seat at the vanity table out. "Now sit." He commanded. "Breathe."

She took a few deep breaths. Legolas picked up the silver brush laying on the vanity, gathered her hair in one hand and began to brush it; gently working out the tangles. She closed her eyes. His touch was so soothing; so calming. His nimble fingers worked the top half into a braid which he secured with a knot of her own hair.

"There. You are beautiful."

He leaned over and placed a kiss on the tip of her ear.

_I'm going to leave you._

"Thank you, Legolas." She said gratefully.

"Shall we?" He said offering his arm.

Just as they opened the door and stepped out into the corridor, Faramir was exiting his quarters.

"Ah, Legolas! Good morning. I was just coming to see if you were ready. I now have my answer. Eowyn," he called back into the room, "they are ready."

Eowyn joined them in the corridor and together they walked in twos; Faramir and Legolas at the head and the women behind, to the seventh level gate, and then on to Aragorn and Arwen's private dwellings behind the Citadel.

The guards at the door were expecting them and opened the heavy iron doors to let them through. It was not a house that they entered but a small courtyard. The ground was covered with alternating patches of soft green grass and stone. Lush green plants and fragrant flowers grew abundantly out of stone beds, containers, even out of the cracks in the wall that surrounded the courtyard. Several prominent water features and many smaller fountains were strategically placed, echoing the sound of the soothing water to the furthest reaches of the courtyard. As they looked around, Jordan took notice of a man standing near one of the fountains with his back towards the group.

Upon hearing people approaching, he turned around. He was ruggedly handsome dressed in a high-collared velvet tunic the color of rich emerald, with a matching cloak draped loosely about his broad shoulders. The collar and edges of the cloak were adorned with fine embroidery of gold and silver thread. Light blond shoulder-length hair, similar in color to Eowyn's, complimented his strong-featured face.

"Eomer!" Eowyn cried. She rushed to him and threw her arms around him.

"My dear sister! It has been too long!" He hugged her tightly. "Faramir! Legolas!" Eomer exclaimed. They each greeted him in the customary manner, clasping each other's shoulder.

Jordan stood to the side and watched their little reunion; feeling oddly out of place while they made their reacquaintances. Finally, Eowyn beckoned Jordan over to where her brother stood, so that she might introduce the two.

"Jordan, this is my brother, Eomer. Eomer, the Lady Jordan."

He moved past his sister to stand before Jordan.

"Pleased to meet you, Eomer."

Bowing, he took her hand and kissed it; his lips lingering on her skin.

"The pleasure is mine." He said.

Looking up into her eyes, his mesmerizing gaze held hers captive. His deep voice was sultry and soft, yet held an edge of authority. The whole scene made Legolas feel uneasy and he looked away.

A servant approached the group, informing them that Aragorn and Arwen would come shortly to greet them.

Their understated appearance took Jordan by surprise as they entered the courtyard. Neither one wore a crown. Aragorn looked rather plainly for a king wearing only breeches and a silk tunic in muted colors of gray and black. In contrast, Arwen was exquisitely beautiful, needing no adornment. Her long, dark hair hung loose in cascading waves and her pale lavender gown was simple but elegant. When she smiled, she seemed to radiate light from within. Jordan was in awe. She wondered if all female elves were as beautiful. She suddenly felt a sense of inadequacy comparatively.

"Legolas!" Arwen cried joyfully. She embraced him and touched his cheek.

As the king and queen greeted their friends of old, Jordan remained in the background, standing quietly; watching and waiting. When they were finished, Legolas took Jordan by the arm and led her to the front of the group.

"Aragorn, Arwen, may I present to you the Lady Jordan."

They all stood staring at each other for what seemed like minutes and no one uttered a word. Arwen smiled and took a few slow steps towards her, put her arms around her, and hugged her lightly. Jordan couldn't understand why, but Arwen's embrace comforted her; surrounding her with warmth and light. Her inner anguish was temporarily forgotten. All of the tension she harbored seemed to dissolve and scatter, leaving only calmness. It startled her and she let a quiet sob escape her lips.

"Mae govannen and well met." Arwen said as she released her.

Arwen stepped to the side and Aragorn came forward, took her hand, but did not kiss it out of respect for Legolas. Jordan bowed slightly with a nod of her head.

"I am pleased to finally meet you, Lady Jordan."

"As well am I."

To Jordan's relief, no one questioned or even seemed to notice the fact that she held a cane or walked with a lame leg.

With his arms outstretched, Aragorn addressed the group.

"I am glad you all have come. Let us make our way inside so that we may break fast this morning and share in each other's company."

Aragorn and Arwen's dining hall was exquisite. Tapestries depicting heroic acts of battle were displayed on the walls as well as a large collection of swords and knives. Against another wall sat a rustic wooden sideboard and a hutch with rare glass doors. Underfoot, a soft, thickly piled rug in deep shades of greens, reds, and blues covered the stone floor almost the entire length of the hall. The main focal point, however, was the long, formal dining table that occupied the middle of the room. The entire piece was stained a dark, rich brown and could accommodate fourteen people; six on each side and one at each end. The top was made of wide, roughly hewn planks smoothed to a satin finish and held together by two large strips of hammered silver towards each end. Hand carved reliefs of dragons, hounds, and ravens encircled by runic scrollwork in a manner similar to Old Norse decorated the edges of the table top and the legs which consisted of tree trunks stripped of their bark and smoothed down but with the branches left intact to serve as extra support for the heavy top. The high backs of the wooden chairs also bore the same carvings. The table was set and laden with many silver platters, serving dishes and pitchers; a veritable feast that could easily serve thrice their number.

Faramir laughed as he approached the table.

"Are you expecting more guests?" He asked Aragorn.

With a grin, he replied, "No. Far too seldom do we have guests here; I thought a little indulgence was in order."

After Aragorn seated himself at the head with Arwen at his right, the rest of the guests took their seats. Eomer took the seat to Aragorn's left; then Eowyn, and beside her, Faramir. Legolas pulled the chair out for Jordan adjacent to Arwen and seated himself next to her. Legolas intended Jordan to sit next to Arwen so they could get acquainted but realized his folly when he sat down. Jordan was now directly diagonal to Eomer who watched her with interest; his eyes roaming her body as if she were one of the dishes to be consumed. Legolas put his hand on Jordan's forearm protectively and as a gesture to the fact that they were more than acquaintances; making sure it was in plain view of Eomer. Jordan turned to Legolas and smiled thinking his touch was in reassurance. It seemed to work Eomer turned his attention elsewhere; for the time being.

The talk was lively as everyone helped themselves to the food and poured the wine. Much of it was talk of old times and people she did not know, so Jordan kept to herself, mostly just listening, and ate her breakfast. She found herself completely fascinated by Arwen, though, and had to stop herself several times from staring at her; the look of her dress, her hair, her delicately pointed ears. She wanted to strike up a conversation with her, but she didn't know quite what to say or how to begin.

Finally, Aragorn asked, "Lady Jordan, how did you and Legolas meet?"

Looking around the table, all eyes were on her. She smiled nervously. "Um, I was traveling here, to Minas Tirith, and during the journey, I became injured and could not continue." She turned to Legolas while she spoke and he gave her a smile. "Legolas was the one who found me. He took me to Emyn Arnen where I could be treated by a healer," she turned to look at Aragorn once more, "and, by the charitable generosity of Faramir and Eowyn, have I remained there ever since."

"Well, Legolas, should we add rescuing maidens in distress to your list of accomplishments?" Aragorn said with a good-natured laugh. "I speak in jest. Really, it is a lovely story."

"Do you have family here?" Arwen asked.

"No. All of my family has since past on. I have come looking for a book that belonged to them and I have reason to believe it is being kept in your archives. If I may," she said hesitantly, "I would ask that I be given leave to search them."

"You may indeed. As well, I will send a few servants to assist you in your search."

"Thank you, my lord. That is most gracious."

Faramir paled. He had received no word yet on whether or not Turgon had been successful in disposing the book.

After everyone had sated themselves on food and wine; taking advantage of all Aragorn had to offer, the group moved out en mass to the courtyard. The deliberations were about to begin and the men and elf would need to depart. Aragorn ordered one of his guards to escort Jordan to the archives as a courtesy and told her his servants would be along shortly. For one who had never been to the city, an explaination of its location would be difficult. Jordan thanked Aragorn again for his help and thanked Arwen for her hospitality. Before she left with Aragorn's guard, she went to Legolas.

"Goodbye, Legolas."

He looked at her with softened eyes that held a touch of sadness.

"Goodbye my lady." He said reaching up with one hand to caress her cheek.

"Will I see you later?"

"For certain. It may not be until evening, but I will find you."

The archives were a dark and dusty place buried deep in the roots of Mount Mindolluin. It did not appear that there was any system of organization as there were books and old parchment scrolls and papers littering the shelves in every which way. This was going to be a long day!

As promised, about ten to twelve servants, both women and men, filed into the archives shortly after Jordan and her escort had arrived.

"What manner of book are we looking for, my lady?" One of the servants asked.

She held out the pendant she wore around her neck for all to see, as the servants gathered around her.

"It is written in a language you would not be familiar with; the same language inscribed on this pendant.

"A fruitless task indeed!" Huffed one of the male servants under his breath. "For there are many languages here not understood by men."

Each servant present systematically took a section of shelves and began to pull the books out one by one; inspecting the cover and opening the book to reveal the first few pages for seldom was there anything imprinted on the outside.

Although many people were involved in the search, the archives were large and their progress was slow. Several hours had passed and still no one had turned up anything of value. Jordan took a break and poured herself some water from a pitcher the serving staff had brought in, trying to wash the dust from her throat. She was half sitting, half leaning on the edge of one of the large tables; her eyes closed; her mind recalling times spent with Legolas, when one of the servants called out, "I have found it!"


	16. Talk of the Town

Disclaimer: All characters and places mentioned are the sole property of Cyan, Inc., J.R.R. Tolkien, or Peter Jackson/New Line Cinema. This is strictly for entertainment purposes and not based on fact. I do not profit from this story in any way.

A.N.: In a last minute decision, I have decided to change the soldiers assisting the search for the linking book to servants. Although they are in a time of peace, I felt it would be more likely Aragorn would use servants than pull his soldiers off duty. Besides, they serve my purpose better.

Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain!

**Chapter 14 - Talk of the Town**

Jordan rushed over, pushing aside anyone in her way, but before she could reach him, a second servant who was nearby looked over the book.

"No, no, no. Those are _dwarvish_ runes." He pointed out.

"Oh." The first servant said, disheartened.

"Sorry, it was a mistake. Keep looking everyone." The second servant called out.

Quiet grumbling was heard amongst the group as they learned they had not been relieved of their assignment. Jordan slumped down into a chair and held her head in her hands. This was not going like she thought. She never imagined the archives to be so large or in such disarray.

-------

In their husbands' absence, Eowyn and Arwen spent the evening keeping each other company; eating a light supper and enjoying some wine in Arwen's courtyard. They talked of womanly things; family, children, but inevitably the conversation turned to the mystery woman, Jordan, that Legolas kept company with.

"What do you know of her life before she came to Emyn Arnen?" Arwen asked.

Eowyn tensed. She had been sworn to secrecy about Jordan's past.

"Very little I am afraid."

"There is something about her; something strange. I cannot place it."

"Your elven senses must be more receptive. I sense nothing."

"Perhaps. It is very subtle, but there is something…" Arwen mused to herself aloud. "Anyway, where did she say her homeland was?"

"_She_ did not say. However, Legolas has said she comes from South Ithilien."

"South Ithilien? Now that is an odd thing. Ithilien was abandoned and the people relocated towards the end of the second age. Except for Emyn Arnen, there are no known villages or towns to speak of."

"Ithilien is a vast and wild land. Perhaps there was a small village in the far reaches that endured. Under those circumstances, she would have led a very isolated existence. Perhaps that is why she seems different." Eowyn suggested.

"That is a possibility. It is curious though. I think I would like to speak with her about it."

Eowyn breathed a sigh of relief. The burden was now on Jordan to explain away her past.

-------

Aragorn proved to be a gracious and thoughtful host, having the kitchen staff provide Jordan and her fellow search assistants with meals and refreshment right there in the archives. For hours upon hours they searched, only taking a short reprieve to quickly consume the evening meal served. Jordan had no way to tell time but it felt very late so she sent the servants away for the night.

She emerged from the archives tired, discouraged, and covered in dust. The streets were quiet and empty. It was already nightfall and the lanterns had been lit. The air had been cool in the cavern-like setting of the archives, but now outside, even though it was evening, it was still warm and she began to perspire as she made the uphill trek to her quarters. What she wanted more than anything was to just take a bath and go to bed.

Jordan glanced around trying to get her bearings. She had no inkling of what level she was on. They all looked the same to her. Aragorn's guard led the way to the archives this morning. Jordan simply followed him and had not taken note of its location. Coming upon one of the gates, she asked the guard on duty.

"What level is this?"

"Through this gate, you will be entering the third level."

"Which level is the Houses of Healing on?"

"The sixth. Are you in need of assistance, my lady?" The guard asked as he looked her over, thinking she may be injured and seeking a healer.

"No, I am fine, thank you. I only wish to return to my quarters which are on the same level."

"Very well. Goodnight, then."

-------

The deliberations on the trade agreement with the Easterlings lasted well into the evening. Legolas stepped out into the night air grateful the talks were finally over for _this_ day, anyway. Tomorrow morning, they would reconvene. He never did have a love for diplomatic proceedings. Before he could take his leave, he still had one order of business to attend to and that was speaking with Aragorn about obtaining an additional room. Aragorn agreed to make the necessary arrangements but kept Legolas captive; intent on talking of other things. Any other time, Legolas would have been content to talk with his friend well into the late hours, but tonight his mind and heart were elsewhere. He wished to be with Jordan even if it were but for a few minutes. As well, he was anxious but also apprehensive to learn what her search may have turned up. He truly wished for nothing more than her happiness, but for his own sake, he could not deny that he hoped she would never find the linking book. Legolas was finally able to politely excuse himself and rushed to the guest quarters he temporarily shared with the lady. To his disappointment, she was not there. He poured himself some wine and settled into the chair to unwind from the day's activities.

-------

Turgon held the strange book in his hands. Inside the front cover was the linking panel just as Lady Jordan had described. The book contained maybe twenty or so pages of text; written in symbols, the same language that was inscribed on the pendant she wore. He knew well enough not to touch the linking panel but he could not help but stare at it in fascination; a portal to another world. He carefully held the page up by a smidge of the corner, looked at the back of it, and then set it down again. It was merely a painting on a piece of paper, but it was unlike any painting _he_ had ever seen. It was like what one saw when they look upon a sight with their own eyes.

During his search, he never expected to actually find the book. He had strongly doubted its very existence; but there it had been, covered in a thick layer of dust; forgotten after so many years. It was smaller than what he imaged and had gotten pushed back behind some other books, which is why it took longer to find than he anticipated. Unfortunately, this overlapped his time in the city with Faramir's party, specifically, the Lady Jordan.

It would not have been considered unusual for him to a pay a visit to the city; he had done so on many occasions. Minas Tirith had been his former home and he was known by many. Were he to cross paths with the lady on the streets, this would have been a plausible excuse but the timing for such a visit could be construed as a bit odd. For this reason, he felt it was imperative that he maintain complete secrecy. Were he to be seen by anyone entering or leaving the archives, or worse, seen browsing through the books, word could get back to Lady Jordan. So, he moved in the cover of darkness, slipping in and out of the archives unnoticed.

How he had gone undiscovered thus far, well, only the Valar could say, but he had to get out of this city soon! He had shaved his beard and donned the garb of a messenger but he was man with a distinct look, and it did little to disguise his appearance. By rights, he could have sent someone else. Faramir's orders were simply to have the archives searched but he did not specify by whom. Because of the nature of the book, Turgon trusted none but himself to complete the task. However distasteful he found this particular task, this betrayal; faithfully had he served the Stewards and he would continue to do his lord's bidding until he could do so no more.

When there came suddenly a knock at his door, he nearly jumped out of his skin. He quickly closed the book and shoved it under some clothes in his bag. What trouble could this be?

'Oh, but this had been a fool's errand!' He thought.

He tried to maintain his calm as he opened the door to see two Gondorian guards with a servant standing by.

"What can I do for you at this hour my lords?"

"Might we have your name and your business here in Minas Tirith?"

"Leithion is my name and I am but a messenger my lords. I have finished my duty and will be leaving the city by first light. Is there a problem?"

"By the king's order, these quarters must be vacated..."

He was told if he wished to stay on in the city, he must move to the old guesthouse on the Lampwright's street on the first level. It was actually preferable. When he left for Rivendell in the morning, he would be that much closer to the Great Gate and, as he saw it, the less people he passed by, the less chance there was of being recognized.

-------

Legolas heard muffled noises coming from outside. Opening the main door just a crack, he peered out into the dimly-lit corridor and listened. As promised, someone had come to relocate the occupant of the next room who fortunately was only a messenger on errand, not a delegate of the council and was leaving the following morning.

Now that the room had been cleared and cleaned, Legolas decided he might as well move his bags and personal effects. He was just gathering his belongings when Jordan returned. "There you are. I was beginning to think you had decided to take up residence in the archives." He teased.

"I feel like I have," She groaned, "and I am all the worse for the ware. It is so dank and dusty down there! I desperately need to bathe."

"I take it you have not found your book yet."

"No."

"Well, there is always tomorrow." He smiled but silently cursed the words before they even left his mouth. He turned from her and picked up his bag where he had left it on the floor and retrieved his bow and quiver from the corner, slinging them over his shoulder.

"Are you leaving?"

"Aragorn arranged for the quarters next door to be vacated so that no longer will I have to sleep in a chair." He was teasing her again. "I will be lodging there for the duration of our stay."

"Oh. He sure gets things done quickly; but then again, he is the king."

"He is indeed." Legolas smiled remembering how much his friend had endured and how deserving he was of his position, even though it was his by birthright. "Tomorrow I must attend the council meeting but if you would like breakfast, Eowyn said she would accompany you."

"Okay."

"I am sorry so much of my attention is needed elsewhere. I had hoped to show you around the city."

"That's alright. Searching the archives is more than enough to fill my time."

"Tomorrow evening in the Hall of Feasts, however, there will be a dinner held for the council delegates and their guests. Perhaps you allow me to escort you?"

After a long yawn, she said, "Sure. When should I be ready?"

He thought for a moment. "By the tolling of the thirteenth bell. If we leave then, we should arrive in plenty of time."

"Okay, I will be waiting here."

"I can see that you are in need of rest, so I will take my leave." He spoke as he gathered the rest of his belongings. "If you need anything, do not hesitate to ask; even in the dead of night. Awaken me if need be. If the main door is barred, the two rooms share the balcony; you may come in through there. Before I retire, I will speak to the servants and request that a bath be drawn for you."

"Thank you, Legolas. Goodnight."

He walked towards the door but paused to take her hand and kiss it.

"Goodnight, my lady."

He left, shutting the door softly behind him.

Not too long after Legolas left, there was a knock at the door - servants with hot water for her bath. After they had filled the small metal tub, she thanked them profusely. When they had gone she stripped off her gown, put in the basket by the door to be washed, and slipped into the warm water. Near the tub, there was a small shelf on the wall with many scented soaps and oils; the king and queen were good to their guests. As she soaked, she picked up the various bottles, inhaling their scents. She preferred woodsy and earthy scents to floral and indulged in sprinkling the water with an amber and sandalwood scented oil.

Using her hands, she pulled her leg up out of the water. It had been bothering her all day. At first she wasn't able to pinpoint the vague physical sensation. She had been so focused on the search, her mind only registered a feeling of general discomfort. It had grown worse throughout the day until finally she could no longer ignore it. Once she stopped to focus on what was ailing her, she realized it had been her leg causing the discomfort - a slight itching and a pins-and-needles sensation that could only be caused from further regeneration of the nerve. She then tried flexing her foot and found that she did have some movement although the range of motion was very limited. The muscles had atrophied and she could only manage to flex her foot a few times before they became fatigued and willed movement was no longer effective. It was encouraging but it would still be a long time before she would be able to walk unassisted.

Closing her eyes, her thoughts turned to Legolas. She felt badly about spending time with him when she knew she would be leaving him soon, but what could she do? If she declined, he would question her motives and now was not the time to have her plan revealed. She lingered even after the water was too cool for comfort, reluctant to get out, but sleep was calling her. She quickly dried off, put on her sleeping gown, and slipped into bed wondering if Legolas was doing the same in the next room.

-------

Turgon paced the floor of his new accommodations, anxious and restless. He had grown accustomed to being awake during the night and had already slept much of the day. He had been in such a hurry to switch rooms that he had simply shoved everything haphazardly into his bags, so he took the time now to carefully repack them. He wrapped the book in one of his tunics and placed it at the bottom of his bag and stacked his clothes and belongings neatly on top of it. With the preparations for the journey finished and his bags placed by the door, the only thing left to do was wait.

At first light, Turgon wasted no time. Grabbing up his bags, he rushed to the stables where his horse was kept. Once he had tacked up his horse and fastened his bags to the saddle, through the great gate he went, tearing across Pelennor fields and did not look back.

-------

Jordan was barely awake and certainly not ready by the time Eowyn knocked at her door to go to breakfast. She was starting to see now the value of alarm clocks. How was anyone supposed to get anywhere on time around here? The bells? She had cursed them and went back to sleep! She forced herself out of bed and rushed to the door to let Eowyn in.

"Goodmor…Oh, you are not ready."

Jordan grimaced. "I know, I'm not…"

"A morning person? I know."

Jordan laughed at Eowyn's use of her modern slang.

"Come in, I will be ready in a second."

"Have you found your book yet?" Eowyn called into the bathing chamber where Jordan was dressing.

"No, not yet." She called back out. "You would be the first to know."

Jordan came out of the bathing chamber and sat down at the vanity table to brush her hair.

"May I ask why you are intent on finding it? You do not actually want to use it, right? So why look for it at all?"

Jordan froze for a moment. "Uh…" She played the hesitation off by pretending to focus on her hair, securing the top half in the back with a metal clasp. "Well, I just feel that it's important that the book is with me. After all, it is the only connection I have to my people."

"I can understand that." She gave a short laugh. "You had me worried. For a moment, I thought you were going to tell me that you were leaving. Legolas would have been devastated."

Jordan joined Eowyn with a short, uneasy laugh, and then quickly changed the subject as they walked out the door down to the street below.

"So, where are we going?"

"There is a tea house and eatery on the fifth level that caters to the finer residents and guests of Minas Tirith. Afterwards, we can browse the market if you like. There are many merchants selling fine cloth, jewelry, and other wares from around the region."

"I should probably get back to the archives after we eat."

"Oh. Well, suit yourself."

-------

The tea house was a quaint little space occupying part of a larger building. A façade of stone pillars and arches created a sheltered area that one could dine under. There were several arched windows to either side of the door, complete with wooden shutters and flower boxes underneath. Overall, it had an old-world feel similar to the little cafés seen on the streets of Europe. Inside, the stone walls were decorated with frescos, tapestries, and even a small fountain set into the wall. Potted plants both flowering and vine hung from the ceiling and grew in containers set in niches in the walls. Small cozy tables arranged in rows took up the center of the room. There were a few patrons, mostly women, occupying some of the tables but there were still a good many to choose from. They picked a table by one of the windows and were served a breakfast of tea, warm biscuits, and jam.

If Jordan looked past the distinctive manner of clothing and creaking wooden wheels of an occasional cart going by on the street, just for a moment, she could pretend she was home. She played along, letting her imagination run with the idea. She could be having lunch in a downtown bistro designed with an old-world flair or perhaps on vacation in Europe. The sense of normalcy it brought was enough to provide a short but welcome respite from her cares and worries.

"Oh, this is so good!" Jordan gushed as she savored the biscuits and jam.

Eowyn smiled curiously at her enthusiasm for seemingly simple things.

"You do not have biscuits and jam in your home?"

"Yes. That's why they're so good. I know it sounds odd, but the food, this place; it reminds me of home."

"I would imagine you miss it."

"Yes and no. I miss the modern conveniences; I miss my work, but I do not miss the people all that much."

"I am sorry. It must be difficult." As an afterthought she added, "but you have Legolas and you have friends here. Is that not a small consolation?"

Jordan smiled but did not comment. It seemed to please Eowyn to think of Legolas and she as a couple and it was easier just to let her do so.

"I presume you will be leaving Emyn Arnen soon."

Jordan nearly choked on her biscuit and had to cough.

"Why do you say that?"

"Legolas will be returning to the Elf colony after the garden is completed. I thought you would be relocating to the colony to be nearer to him."

"No, I have no plans to…unless you wish to be rid of me, and in that case, I would probably move to the village."

"No, no, of course not. Don't be silly. I just assumed…" Eowyn stopped herself. She was confused at Jordan's seemingly indifferent attitude towards Legolas. They seemed to be getting on so well. She gave an apologetic smile. "Forgive me. It is none of my business."

Once they had finished their breakfast, Eowyn extracted two gold pieces from a small velvet pouch tied to her belt and tossed them on the table. Afterwards, they walked out into the street which was now lively with activity.

"Thank you, Eowyn, for a lovely breakfast. I really enjoyed this place."

"You are very welcome. Shall we do it again tomorrow?"

"I would like that."

"Good. Are you sure I cannot convince you to go to the market with me? It is too fair a morning to be shut indoors."

"I am sure."

Eowyn sighed. "You will be at the dinner tonight, yes?"

"Yes, I will be there."

"Alright. I will see you then."

"Goodbye, Eowyn." Jordan said with a friendly wave and the two women went their separate ways.

-------

Jordan walked through the streets looking around in wonder amidst the bustle of city life. Overhead, the cloudless vibrant blue sky held the promises of a new day. A slight breeze caressed her skin and sent wisps of hair swirling about her face. The warmth of the sun felt good on her face and renewed her spirit.

As she approached the archives, she heard low voices. Apparently, there were already a few servants dutifully sifting through the books. Just out of sheer curiosity, she stopped at the threshold, pressing herself up against the wall and listened in.

"If you ask me, that strange language I saw? It ain't from this world." Jordan heard one of the male servants say.

"What are you saying?" A female servant said.

"The old story; the people of the stars. I think she's one of 'em." He answered.

"Rubbish! That's all that is. You go around talking nonsense like that and they're likely to lock you away!" A second, older-sounding woman with a harsh voice said rather loudly.

"Shhh!"

She lowered her voice to a coarse whisper. "All I'm saying is no one knows _who_ she is. Shows up one day and suddenly we got to do _her_ bidding! She is not of noble birth, I can tell you that much. Do you see her manner of dress?"

"I heard she was the wife of an Elf Lord." The first woman said.

"Now that's a load of hogwash! No Elf Lord would take a feeble woman for a wife. Where'd you hear that?" The second woman replied, obviously the matriarch of the group.

"Several of the kitchen servants saw her in the king's quarters accompanied by a blond elf."

"Oh, and so of course that means they're married!" The harsh-voiced woman said sarcastically.

"Maybe she's _his_ servant." The man suggested with a snicker.

"Oh shut up!"

Jordan's eyes narrowed and she clenched her jaw.

'Ooh, those boorish, simple-minded…peasants!' She thought.

Jordan was so angry, she was shaking. She shifted her position slightly, inadvertently kicking her cane with the tip of her shoe, knocking it out of her hand and it clattered to the ground.

"Shhh, someone's coming. Look lively!"

With her position given up, she reluctantly went inside. She threw the gossiping servants a brusque 'hello' without so much as a glance and went right to the shelves. The rest of the servants trickled in shortly afterward.

For hours she did nothing but pull books from the shelves, disturbing the dust. The servants were bored and restless with their tedious task and it showed in their efforts. At present, they had searched well over half of the archive's contents. By sometime tomorrow, they would finish. There was still a chance they may find it, but the possibility lessened as the hours ticked by, and it was hard to keep a positive attitude in the face of such odds. When the kitchen staff brought lunch, she sat by herself at the wooden table and half-heartedly picked at the food. She kept replaying the servant's conversation in her head. She knew she shouldn't let their cruel banter bother her. She tried to brush it off; owing it to ignorance and resentment on their part, but their words weighed on her heart because she believed them to be true. She dreaded the upcoming dinner. It was difficult being near Legolas knowing he was out of her reach, and although he would stand next her, he might as well be a million miles away.

She knew she would need extra time to bathe and change her clothes before the dinner. So, at the ringing of the eleventh bell, she announced to the servants she would be leaving. She gave the servants a choice - keep searching or quit for the day. A few stayed on, but to her dismay, most of them left. She supposed she could not expect anything more. It was not by choice that they were there.

-------

As she made her way from the archives to her quarters, she started to entertain thoughts of what would happen if she did not find the book. When they returned to Emyn Arnen, she could distance herself from Legolas until he returned to the elf colony but it would only prolong the inevitable. It wouldn't be long before he confronted her. At that point, she would have to tell him that it would not work out between them and that he should move on. The thought of that conversation made her ill but she saw little choice. It was either that or tell him of her past and then he would reject _her_. It was a losing situation anyway you looked at it.

Bathing in Middle Earth was still a source of frustration to Jordan. It was cumbersome and time consuming and she would never be comfortable asking servants to heat the water and prepare the bath. It was such a simple task back home; just the turn of a knob and within minutes you were done. So commonplace and accessible in fact, it was never given a second thought, but here it was a lengthy production. With the ordeal of a bath out of the way, she picked out the best gown she had brought with her and struggled into it. She would have rather worn a simpler gown had it been appropriate for the occasion but it sounded like a formal affair.

She sat down at the vanity table to brush out her hair. Looking in the mirror, she loathed herself. She hated lying to her friends; leading Legolas on; letting him escort her to dinner like they were a couple.

'If I could just find the damn book!' She thought bitterly.

Then they could be rid of her; forget about her and go on with their lives. She went about the room, tidying it up while her hair dried. When it was mostly dry, she twisted it into a knot at the crown of her head and secured it with some metal pins Eowyn had given to her. She left a few tendrils out on either side to frame her face.

-------

In the next room, Legolas was also getting himself ready for the dinner. He put on his finest silk tunic and matching leggings. While he brushed his hair, his body hummed with excitement and anticipation. He would finally be able to spend more than a few moments with Jordan. After the dinner, he planned to take her on a walk to the gardens of the Houses of Healing. There, they could stroll through the gardens enjoying the cool evening air. Afterwards, they could find a quiet nook somewhere to sit and watch the stars. Then, he would take her hand, pulling her close to him, and kiss her - soft at first and then building slowly; becoming deeper, harder, until they reached a fervent pace. He could feel her lips against his as the scenario played out in his mind; the silkiness of her hair as it brushed his face; the touch of her fingertips as they grazed his cheek. He shuddered as he imagined the feel of her fingertip gently tracing the curve of his ear up to the tip and back down; her warm breath on his neck as she tasted him there. He felt a tightening and a pleasant warmth that began to radiate from his loins and had to stop his thoughts before he got carried away. It was time to go.

There was a soft knock at the door. As she suspected, it was Legolas. She had every intention of playing the part of Legolas' companion and love interest, but one look at his beautiful face; his entire being that exemplified elven grace and perfection and she knew it was going to be a difficult performance.

"Hello Legolas."

"Hello my lady. You look lovely."

She looked down and fumbled with her skirt. "Oh. Thank you."

"Shall we go?" With a charming smile, he offered her his arm. She took it and together they made their way up to the seventh level to the Great Hall of Feasts where the dinner was being held.

Jordan became more apprehensive with each step she took. She had always felt uneasy in large groups. Legolas' friends and comrades would all be in attendance, most of them royalty. Knowing this made her all the more aware of her physical appearance; her disability. It was the first thing people noticed about her. It couldn't be avoided. Would they be able to look past it? Would they think less of Legolas as her escort?

Legolas' keen elven senses picked up on her body language.

"Is everything alright?"

"Yes." She paused a moment. "Well, no. It's just that there will be so many people and you know how I am about royalty. I guess I'm just nervous." The rest of her thoughts she kept to herself.

"There is no cause for worry. There are some you already know, of course; Faramir, Eowyn, Aragorn, and Arwen. The rest I will introduce you to. They are all good people. You will see. Everything will be fine." He reassured her.

-------

The Great Hall of Feasts sat just to the north of the Tower of Ecthelion. The main hall was a large room with a high ceiling containing many long wooden tables. In the center sat a great fire pit with an iron frame spanning the width which could serve as a spit for roasting meat or hold a kettle for cooking, and on the walls hung the standards of the fiefdoms of Gondor.

Jordan did not say much during dinner. She stared at her plate, pushing the food around but not really eating anything. At one point Legolas leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"Are you alright?"

She gave him a close-lipped smile. "I'm fine."

"Is the food not to your liking?"

"No, it's fine Legolas. I'm just not that hungry."

This was not going like she planned. She just didn't have the will to keep up appearances and Legolas was becoming suspicious.

After dinner, the socializing continued and the wine and ale flowed freely. Jordan stayed by Legolas' side as he talked and mingled; introducing her to the various members of the council she hadn't met yet. Eventually the men and women separated out into their respective gender groups. The noise level rose to a dull roar as boisterous conversation and laughter filled the hall. Although there was no fire burning this time of year, the men gathered around the darkened fire pit talking of battle victories, telling bawdy jokes and congratulating themselves on the spoils of war.

Jordan did not have an affinity for either group and felt decidedly out of place. She assumed it was expected that she consort with the women, so she sat next to Eowyn who was engaged in conversation with Arwen and another woman Jordan did not know. Eowyn introduced the woman as Lothiriel of Dol Amroth. Their idle prattle bored her. She had nothing in common with these women. She stared across the room, watching Legolas from afar; studying his mannerisms, his body language as he talked, the way his face lit up when he laughed. A deep longing settled over her as she looked on; an ache in her heart for which there was no comfort. She laughed bitterly to herself at the cruel irony of it. For the longest time she desired to be alone. Alone was safe. To love meant you were vulnerable to hurt and rejection. No one she ever met was worthy of the risk…until now. She finally found someone who was worth the risk only to find she was unworthy of _him_. She had to get out of there. Was someone was speaking to her?

"Eowyn tells us you are a healer?" It was Lothiriel kindly trying to draw Jordan into the conversation.

"What?"

Lothiriel repeated her question.

"Oh." She responded rather flatly. "Yes."

"That is wonderful; a noble vocation."

They looked at Jordan expectantly to elaborate but when she said nothing further, Arwen spoke up.

"I am not sure you have heard yet. I am hosting afternoon tea for all of the ladies tomorrow in my private gardens. I do hope you will join us."

"Sure." Jordan answered absent-mindedly and flashed a brief, polite smile. "Will you please excuse me?" She wanted nothing more than to be alone; away from the chatter and the noise.

"Is she alright?" Lothiriel asked, looking at Eowyn.

Eowyn shrugged her shoulders. "Perhaps she wishes to seek out Legolas' company. They have had little time to spend together." Eowyn stood up. "As well, I am going to get some more wine. I will be back shortly."

As Eowyn headed to the serving table, she was stopped by Eomer.

"Eowyn, dear sister, have you seen any sign of the Lady Jordan?"

"Yes. She was sitting next to me a moment ago over by Arwen and Lothiriel. Why do you ask?"

"I would like the pleasure of her company." He said matter-of-factly.

"Eomer, I do not think that is a good idea."

"Why? She bears no ring; betrothal, marriage, or otherwise."

"Legolas cares for her."

"And does she care for Legolas or is she just biding her time? Look, I hold Legolas in the highest regard, you know that, but if the lady desired to be with him, she would have done so. He has had his opportunity so to speak, why should my attention not merit consideration?"

"What about Lothiriel? Have you no interest in her?"

"She is a fine woman, but there is something…different about the Lady Jordan; she intrigues me."

"Like a hunter is intrigued by the hunt." She said with mild contempt.

Eomer was not listening. Scanning the room, he saw Jordan leaving the Hall of Feasts.

"Ah! There she is now. Please excuse me, Eowyn."

Eomer turned to leave, but Eowyn grabbed his elbow.

"Eomer, please…leave her alone."

"I am sorry, Eowyn. I have made up my mind."

Eowyn let go of his arm with a huff and shook her head.

-------

Out of the corner of his eye, Legolas saw Jordan step outside. He wanted to join her so they could have a moment alone but he was currently engaged in conversation with Prince Imrahil of Dol Amroth and could not break away. Something was bothering her and he wanted to find out what it was. She had mentioned before they arrived that she was nervous about the dinner. Perhaps she was feeling overwhelmed or out of place. Maybe now was a good time to take that walk to the gardens he had planned and get her away from the crowd and commotion.

-------

Eowyn sought Faramir out and found him away from the rest of the men in a quiet corner, goblet of wine in hand.

"Ah, my beautiful wife. Will you not join me?" He asked, motioning to the empty seat next to him but she remained standing.

"Faramir, I fear there is a problem."

"What has happened?"

She told him about her conversation with Eomer.

"Find Legolas. I just saw him speaking with my uncle not a minute ago. Perhaps we can distract him until she returns."

Eowyn looked around the room and saw Imrahil standing alone.

"Where did he go?" She looked at Faramir with wide eyes. "Oh, dear."

-------

The sun had set and a palette of twilight colors followed on its heels. She saw again the tree her and Legolas had passed by earlier on their way to the Hall of Feasts; its darkened silhouette projected on the evening sky. The lone tree was an oddity amidst the green grass and stone courtyard and she took the opportunity to take a closer look. It was a fairly young tree only slightly taller than her in height and in contrast to the ancient city, looked to be a fairly recent addition. She reached her hand out tentatively to touch one of the silvery-green leaves but then pulled it back. Its singularity gave it a certain sacredness and she dared not touch it. Next to the tree was a simple fountain and together, they were the centerpiece of the courtyard with several stone benches positioned in a circle around them. It was then she noticed someone walking across the courtyard in her direction. 'Damn.' She thought. She was just about to sit down on the one of the stone benches and enjoy the solitude. Now she would have company. As they drew nearer, she saw that it was Eomer.

"Good evening, Lady Jordan."

"Good evening, Your Highness." She said with a nod of her head. She turned to walk back to the Hall of Feasts as if she had planned to do so all along, but he moved to block her path, giving a short laugh.

"There is no need to address me so formally." He took a step closer to her; his voice low and soft; almost seductive. "We are all friends here, are we not?"

There was something about his manner that made her feel terribly ill-at-ease. Although he did nothing that would be considered inappropriate, he exuded a very subtle undercurrent of power and authority, and it almost seemed he did it purposefully as a means to intimidate.

"Okay, _Eomer_, as you wish." She said obligingly putting emphasis on his name.

She looked around desperately hoping to think of a plausible excuse to get away.

"That is better." He crooned.

He was silent for a moment and turned to look upon the tree that held Jordan's attention.

"The White Tree of Gondor." He stated reverently.

"This is the White Tree? I thought it died along with the last King of Gondor, before the rule of the Stewards."

"You are correct. When Aragorn became king, the Withered Tree was taken down and laid to rest. What you see now is a sapling grown from a fruit of that tree planted long ago. Aragorn found it hidden atop of Mount Mindolluin."

"Oh, I see." She managed a polite smile. "Well, I should be getting back."

Eomer would not let her go so easily. "I have come to ask if you will walk with me in the gardens."

She wrung her hands nervously. "But, Legolas…"

"…should keep a beautiful lady such as yourself by his side and yet you stand alone. I only wish to get to know you. A few minutes of your time is all I ask, my lady. I will not accept no for answer."

She really had no desire to keep company with Eomer, but neither did she want to insult Eowyn's brother, the King of Rohan, by refusing him so she relented. She supposed no harm could come from it.

"Well…I…uh, guess it would be okay."

"A wise decision." He offered his arm to her and she reluctantly took it.

-------

Legolas finished up his conversation with Prince Imrahil and hurried outside to find Jordan. He saw her standing near the White Tree but she was not alone. Eomer was with her. Legolas retreated unseen to the side of the building, watching their interaction from the shadows. She was smiling. They conversed for a short while; then Legolas saw her take Eomer's arm and walk towards the gate and down into the city below. He watched until they had disappeared through the gate, not realizing his fists were clenched until his fingers started to ache.

Eowyn was still searching the hall for Legolas. When she finally saw him come walking through the door, she hurried to catch him before he rejoined the men.

"Legolas, where is Jordan?" She asked, fearing the answer.

With barely a pause in his step, he snapped, "I do not know. Perhaps that is a better question for your brother," and continued on his way to the fire pit where the men were still gathered.

-------

After their walk, Eomer escorted her as far as the gate to the seventh level and then excused himself claiming he had something to attend to before returning to the Hall of Feasts. In truth he didn't, but thought it best that they not return together. Eowyn had been right; he should have just left well enough alone. It was obvious where the lady's heart lay. No matter which direction he went with the conversation, she managed somehow to steer the subject back to Legolas. He should have trusted Eowyn's advice. Instead he let himself be guided by his selfish desires.

When Jordan finally returned to the Hall of Feasts, her eyes darted nervously around the hall searching for Legolas, hoping he had not been looking for _her_. Without a sound, Legolas walked up behind her.

"Where have you been?" He asked coolly; his calm expression giving no indication there was anything wrong.

She spun around. His sudden appearance startled her and caught her off guard.

"Uh, nowhere." She stammered. "Just outside."

Legolas felt his anger rising at her convenient omission. He stepped in close to her and grabbed hold of her upper arm; his fingers digging into her flesh. He bent his head down close to her ear, whispering low and harsh. To any onlooker, it appeared as though they were sharing an intimate conversation.

"I saw you with Eomer, walking arm-in-arm. I saw you leave with him."

She could have just told him where she had been right from the beginning, but she had been hoping to avoid a potentially awkward situation. She had no idea he was watching her. To her knowledge, Legolas had been otherwise engaged in conversation. She figured her absence would go unnoticed. Now she was terribly embarrassed. His accusatory tone reminded her of the way Christian used to talk when he wanted to pick a fight with her. It piqued her defenses, quickly turning her embarrassment to anger.

"Maybe I was. So what?" She flung back at him.

"You lied to me." He hissed. He tightened his grip on her arm. "After all I have done for you, I think I deserve a bit more respect than that!"

Jordan tried to jerk her arm out of his vice-like hold.

"Legolas, let go of my arm, you're hurting me!" She cried.

Those words shocked him back to his senses and he immediately released his grip on her arm. Without a word, Jordan turned and stormed out the doors and across the courtyard. Legolas stood there horrified. His anger and disappointment had clouded his mind and he forgot his own strength. He never meant to hurt her.

-------

Luckily, everyone was too engrossed in conversation to witness this little exchange - except Aragorn who happened to be looking their way at the right moment. Aragorn walked up casually and put his hand on Legolas' shoulder.

"Take a walk with me?"

Legolas knew it was not an invitation but a command and let Aragorn guide him out the doors to the courtyard. Aragorn had not heard what was said, but could tell by manner in which Jordan abruptly walked away, something was wrong.

"What was that about?"

"Oh, Aragorn. I have made a terrible mistake."

They continued to walk down the battlement towards the Seat as Legolas recounted the events of the evening that led to what Aragorn saw.

Sitting down on the low wall before the Seat, Aragorn lit his pipe and contemplated Legolas' situation. Legolas sat next to him and prepared himself for the chastisement that he certainly deserved but it did not come. Instead Aragorn was kind but firm.

"Although your reaction was quite unbecoming; the lady is not without blame. Nevertheless, you must ask yourself - does your anger stem from the fact that she lied or the fact that she was with Eomer?"

"Aragorn…" Legolas protested.

"You do not need to tell me; I am not here to judge. I am merely suggesting you search within yourself to identify the reasoning behind your actions so it can be dealt with. I believe too much has gone unsaid between the two of you; feelings and desires have been left unspoken and for that, you are _both_ at fault. As difficult as it may seem, you need to talk to her; get everything out in the open and it must be done soon, before brooding turns anger into resentment on both your parts."

"What if she will not listen?"

Aragorn smiled and put a hand on Legolas' shoulder. "If there is one thing I know about you friend, is that you do not give up that easily."

He stood up and tucked his pipe underneath his belt. "I should be getting back now. Are you coming?"

"No. I think I will stay here for a while."

Aragorn nodded. Then Legolas added, "Thank you, Aragorn."

"You are most welcome." He replied and walked back towards the Hall of Feasts leaving Legolas alone with his thoughts.

-------

Jordan was overwhelmed with anger and frustration as she walked back to her quarters. She was angry at Legolas, angry at herself, and at her entire situation altogether. Here was a new world in which she was given the chance to make a fresh start and yet she had somehow managed to make a jumbled mess of her life, again. She was disabled, living precariously on the good graces of others, with no means to support herself. She had become emotionally entangled with Legolas, her closest friend, and the means to untangle herself came with a heavy price - the loss of his friendship.

Back in her quarters, Jordan noticed someone had been there and left a bottle of wine, a pitcher of water, and a couple of goblets on the sideboard. Her first thoughts went to Legolas, but realized more than likely it was the maidservant who was responsible.

"Perfect." She said bitterly. "Nothing like drowning your sorrows at the bottom of a bottle of wine."

She filled one of the goblets and took it and the bottle outside with her onto the balcony.

She pushed the chaise up against the balcony railing. If she sat on the arm of it, she would be high enough to lean over the railing and look down over the city. The wine bottle and goblet were perched perilously on the railing beside her; one false move and they would plummet to the level below. She grabbed the goblet and took a large gulp.

"Here's to burning bridges." She held the goblet up in toast, drained it of its contents, and set it back on the ledge.

She leaned on the railing with crossed forearms and rested her chin on them. The lanterns that lit the city below created a sea of lights; each pinpoint of light sparkling and dancing as their shapes were distorted by the tears that filled her eyes.

-------

Legolas looked up into the night sky as a profound sadness settled over him. How did tonight go so wrong? It was supposed to have been a night that would bring them closer together. Jordan had walked in the gardens and watched the stars just like Legolas had planned, but it had been Eomer who took his place at her side. It was not his nature to simply give up whether it be in battle or any other situation, but if she desired to be with Eomer, he would be left with little choice. It was a private fear that he had not shared with Aragorn - one that would reveal his anger was not from Jordan's deceit but was born out of jealousy for which he was ashamed. He could not blame her if she wanted a mate of her own likeness. Eomer, as a mortal, would be a more suitable match and would have more in common with her.

-------

Jordan brushed away her tears angrily and refilled her goblet. She wondered what Legolas was doing at this moment. He was probably still at the Hall of Feasts enjoying himself. Did he wonder where she went or if she was okay? Probably not; he was angry at her. He deserved to be.

The goblet was heavy and seemed to get heavier the more she drank. In between sips, she would set it back down on the railing without much thought and most of the time it teetered dangerously on the edge. Her head was getting fuzzy and her eyelids were heavy. The wine was starting to get to her. She reached for her goblet again to finish it off but her balance was off and she pitched forward, knocking it off the ledge. Luckily, her hand swooped in from behind the goblet and it fell onto the balcony and not down to the lower level. It hit the stone tiles with a loud crack and shattered.

"Oh, shit!" She cried out, then covered her mouth with her hand. "Oops." She didn't mean for that to slip out.

She slid off the arm of the chaise and landed on her rear with a thud on the cushion, then scooted herself down to lay on her side. With her upper body hanging off the chaise, supported by one hand on the floor, she strained to reach the goblet. Although she had heard it shatter, it hadn't quite registered yet that it was broken until she saw the shards scattered on the ground mingled with splatters of wine.

"Oh."

She heaved herself back up onto the chaise; out of breath from holding herself up.

"I'll clean that up tomorrow." She slurred.

She closed her eyes. She couldn't believe how comfortable this chaise was.

"Mmm. Just a few minutes, and then I'll get up." She muttered. A few seconds later, she was passed out.

-------

Legolas wearied of dwelling on the situation. He wouldn't be able to have peace with himself until he had at least apologized for his actions. He did not know where she had gone to, but her quarters seemed the most likely of places.

He entered through his quarters first and went out to the balcony that connected their rooms. The first thing he noticed was a bottle of wine sitting on the railing. It was almost empty. Jordan was sleeping on the chaise, still in her gown. As he walked over to her, he heard something crunch underneath his boot. He looked down and saw the broken pieces of the goblet and drops of wine on the ground. He concluded that she must have drunk too much. She either dropped the goblet or knocked it over. He stood over her looking down at her face and was filled with remorse over the way he had acted. He just hoped he hadn't caused lasting damage to their relationship.

(Music queue - Legolas' song

To listen, visit this chapter at elvenladyofithilien dot com)

Although no harm would come to her out on the balcony, he felt she would probably be more comfortable in the bed. He slipped his arm underneath her and sat her up. He was just about to pick her up and carry her inside but stopped when she stirred. She opened her eyes and looked at Legolas briefly before closing them again.

"I'm sorry, Legolas." She said softly.

He sat down on the chaise behind her and pulled her into him, laying her head against his chest, and wrapped his arms around her.

"I am sorry, too." He whispered even though he knew she wouldn't hear it.

In the quiet darkness with only the stars as witness, he held her and listened to her breathe. For Legolas, the moment was bittersweet. It was such a release to have her in his arms, to put aside all of the contention that had kept them apart, but it could also be the last time he might do so. He could only cling to hope and his faith in the Valar that they would see them through. If she was indeed lost to him, then he would have this one moment to take with him and he would lock it away close to his heart where no one could touch.

He had stayed as long as he dared. The sun would be rising in a few hours and although he wished he possessed the power to delay it, the world would not bend to the will of one elf. He carried her to her bed and gently laid her down. He regretted she would have to sleep in her gown but he couldn't very well undress her. He searched around for something to cover her up with. In the drawers of the sideboard, he found a small throw tucked away. It would do.

She shifted position, stretching her legs out, as he draped the small blanket over her. A small groan escaped her lips. Legolas thought she was waking but she never opened her eyes.

'She must be dreaming.' He thought.

He leaned in closer and tenderly brushed the hair away from her face.

"Who do you dream of, Jordan?" He whispered softly.

After one last longing glance, he slipped out of her quarters without a sound.


	17. Tears and Rain

Disclaimer: All characters and places mentioned are the sole property of Cyan, Inc., J.R.R. Tolkien, or Peter Jackson/New Line Cinema. This is strictly for entertainment purposes and not based on fact. I do not profit from this story in any way.

A.N.: I wanted to take a moment and thank all my wonderful readers and your kind reviews. It is what keeps me going when I feel like I've lost my focus. I want to wish all of you a belated Merry Christmas and happy holidays. I had hoped to have this chapter out to you before Christmas but a bit of bad luck befell my family and my mother ended up ill in the hospital. Those of us who accompanied her to the ER, then contracted terrible colds. Everyone is on their way to recovery now, so here, finally, is the latest chapter. I hope you enjoy it.

- ELoI

Warning: Adult subject matter - i.e. sexual situations.

­­­­­­­­­­­­

**Chapter 15 - Tears and Rain**

As Eowyn spied around the room, she noticed Legolas was now gone. Eomer and Jordan had yet to return. She gnashed her teeth in anticipation, waiting for the moment where she could lay into her brother. Eventually, the festivities wound down and the Hall began to empty out. Still, there was no sign of any one of them.

"Come my sweet, it is time to bid our hosts goodnight." Faramir told her. Reluctantly, she left with her husband, returning to their guest quarters with no news on the outcome of the situation.

After the dinner, Aragorn and Arwen walked home in relative silence. Ever since his conversation with Legolas, his mind had been troubled. He wished for nothing but happiness for his careworn friend. He knew well what a struggle it was for Legolas to remain in Middle Earth; to resist the call of the sea. If he could at least find someone to share his years here, it would do a measure of good. That someone, though, was supposed to be an elf maiden, _not_ a mortal, so that after his time here was done, they could sail together to the Undying Lands. Unlike Arwen, Legolas could not choose to forsake his immortality.

Arwen smiled at Aragorn and took his hand in hers as they continued on. Even now, her touch sent a thrill coursing through his body. It still seemed like only days, not years, had passed since their wedding. Each of them had traveled a difficult road to get to this point and Aragorn felt awash with gratitude that the dark times were finally behind them and the long years of their separation over and done. He hoped Legolas would not find his own path to be as difficult, but sadly Aragorn knew that whether now or in the distant future, what his elven friend sought could only result in heartbreak. Aragorn was struck with an almost desperate need to hold Arwen close in reassurance that they were here, that this was real and not an illusion. He wanted to be sheltered by her light and love; that it might drive away these thoughts.

Once they reached the sanctuary of their private courtyard, they chose to linger in the cool evening rather than retreat indoors. They sat, leaning against each other, on a long cushioned divan when finally Aragorn spoke for the first time since leaving the Great Hall of Feasts.

"Arwen, I…" He started, his unease expressed only by the furrowing of his brow.

She did not let him finish, instead pressing a finger to his lips.

"Shh. I hear your thoughts; I know your needs for they are mine, too."

She smoothed his forehead with her fingers lovingly and brought her lips to his, pulling him down with her as she lay back on the divan. Resting atop of her, he kissed her wantonly. Arwen hands roamed up and down Aragorn's back and through his hair as she gazed up at him; eyes glazed over with her building desire. He broke their kiss only to sit up and quickly slip his breeches off. Arwen rolled on to her side and he slid in behind her, covering them both with a light blanket that lay at the foot of the divan. Aragorn untied the laces of her gown and gently kissed the delicate skin of her neck and back that he had exposed. When he finally entered her, and their flesh became one, Aragorn felt such relief and his cares fell away. The hushed tones of their lovemaking mingled with the trickling water of the fountains echoing throughout the courtyard. For them, nothing existed but the love that ebbed and flowed between their feär.

--------

Jordan awoke slowly to the realization of a noise outside her quarters. She groaned and licked her lips. Her mouth was dry and her head hurt.

'What did I do?' She rubbed her forehead with the palm of her hand. 'There's that noise again.'

Jordan finally realized that the 'noise' was someone knocking at the door. She groaned again and forced herself out of bed to see who it was. Her head was swimming and she paused to balance herself against the bedpost. She hoped it wasn't Legolas. Wait. Legolas. She had gotten into an argument with Legolas. The events of last evening were starting to come back to her. She opened the door to see Eowyn standing there.

"Are you…" Eowyn was about to ask if Jordan was ready to go have breakfast but stopped mid sentence when she saw the state Jordan was in. "Oh my dear, look at you! Are you ill?"

"No." Then she groaned holding her head. "Yes. I think I drank too much wine."

"Come here and sit down." Eowyn took her by the elbow and led her to a chair. "I will go get you some water."

Eowyn returned momentarily with a pitcher of water followed by a maidservant who filled the wash basin with fresh water. Eowyn handed Jordan a cup of water and went into the bathing chamber to find a towel. Wetting the towel in the wash basin, she wrung it out and proceeded to gently wipe Jordan's face with the cool water as a mother would her child. Afterwards, she handed Jordan the towel to hold to her forehead.

"There. Is that better?"

"Yes. Thank you."

"Last night did not go so well, did it." Eowyn said sympathetically.

Jordan sighed heavily. "No. It did not."

"Would you like to talk about it?"

"What all do you know?"

"Well…I know that you left with Eomer, Legolas was angry, and after that, all of you disappeared and never returned."

"All I wanted was to be alone. I went out into the courtyard, but Eomer found me there. He asked me to walk with him in the gardens. I didn't want to go but I felt I could not deny his request. I didn't know what to do. He's a king! How can you deny a king?"

Eowyn could not help but laugh at this statement. "Oh, my dear, I am sorry. I do not mean to make light of your situation. It's simply that Eomer is _not_ your king; you have not sworn fealty to him. He has no authority over you nor would he command you as king to keep his company."

"You see?" Jordan threw her hands up in frustration. "I don't know your laws and customs. I don't know what is appropriate and what is not. I have never dealt with a society ruled by kings and queens before."

"No, you are doing fine." Eowyn insisted. "Have patience. You will learn. What happened with Legolas?"

"Well, Eomer did not accompany me back to the hall, I returned alone. I thought it best that Legolas not know where I had been; I though he might get angry. Again, I don't know what obligation I have to him. I don't know what he expects from me. I don't even know what we _are_!" She said, the frustration evident in her voice. "Maybe he wouldn't have minded, I don't know. He caught me off guard, asking where I had been, so I lied to him. I told him I had been outside in the courtyard. I had no idea he saw me leave with Eomer! Legolas got really angry with me for lying to him. He said he deserved better. I was mortified. I didn't know what else to say, so I left."

Jordan intentionally left out the part about Legolas grabbing her arm too hard. She knew from the look of horror on his face that it was not his intent to hurt her. It hadn't truly hurt anyway; it was actually more of a shock, and there was no bruise or mark to show for it.

Eowyn closed her eyes for a moment and sighed, shaking her head.

"I know. I shouldn't have lied to him. I've made a mess of things."

"Well, it is Eomer I am upset with, not you. I had a feeling there might be trouble when he expressed an interest in you. I warned him not to pursue it; not to get involved. Obviously, he did not listen. Eomer is a good man but when he gets something in his mind, he does not easily let go."

"Oh, Eowyn." She covered her face with her hands. "I'm really floundering. I think I made a mistake by coming here."

"To Minas Tirith?"

"No. To Middle Earth."

"Oh, Jordan." Eowyn put her arms around Jordan and hugged her. "Do not say such things." She brushed Jordan's hair away from her face. "I know it has been a difficult transition, but it _will_ get better. There are many here who love you. I know Ioreth is overjoyed to learn your ways of healing. In fact, she considers it a great privilege. She is one of the wisest and most skilled healers in all of Gondor and coming from one in her position, that is the highest compliment. And Legolas…There has always been a touch of sadness that surrounds him, but when he is with you, he comes alive and his eyes shine with joy. I know of no one who has ever evoked that kind of reaction in him. Faramir thinks very highly of you and as for me…well, I have found a new friend now, haven't I." Eowyn smiled and covered Jordan's hand with her own in reassurance. "Talk to Legolas. Tell him of the things you have told me; share with him your fears as well as your hopes. I think you will find him willing to do the same."

Jordan had distanced herself from people for so long, she had forgotten what it was like to have a friend and it was a good feeling. It was difficult to walk away from something like that. She knew all too well friends were not easy to come by. Nevertheless, she pressed on with her plan, refusing to let herself be swayed. The idea had taken hold and now finding the book and returning home had become an obsession. It twisted her logic until she could see no other alternative.

Jordan smiled weakly and nodded. "Thanks for listening, Eowyn."

Eowyn smiled back "That is what friends are for. Now, go get dressed and we will get some breakfast."

-------

The two women shared a quiet breakfast at the same tea house they had eaten at the previous day. Jordan was rather subdued during the meal and Eowyn did not pressure her to converse knowing she was still a little weak. Once they had finished their breakfast, they walked out into the street which was bustling with the activity of daily city life. Jordan felt her strength returning after getting some food in her stomach and vowed to herself never to drink that much wine again no matter what the occasion.

"Remember Arwen is hosting an afternoon tea social. Are you going to go?"

Jordan was reluctant to answer.

"What is it? Do you dislike Arwen?"

"No. I really like Arwen. She seems like a wonderful person…err…I mean elf. It's just that I was hoping to finish searching the archives today. I suppose if we hurry, we can finish it; that is if the servants are cooperative." Jordan grimaced thinking of the boorish servants from yesterday. She sighed and waved her hands. "Nevermind. I'll go, regardless. I don't want to risk being impolite."

Eowyn smiled with satisfaction. "Good. I'll send someone for you when it is nearing time. Good luck with your search."

"Thanks."

Eowyn watched as her friend hobbled down the road, cane in hand. She felt sorry for her and wished her body as well as her spirit would heal soon.

-------

Today was the day Jordan's fate would be decided. Only a small section of the shelves had yet to be searched and at the rate they had been going, she guessed they would get through it by sometime this afternoon. When she arrived, the archives were empty. She hoped at least one servant would show up to search the higher shelves as she couldn't climb the ladder. She looked around the dusty, dimly lit room with disdain. She hated this place. Its forbidding stone walls seemed to mock her. They stood for centuries silently bearing witness to the secrets contained within; secrets they were not willing to part with.

Jordan threw herself into the task with renewed determination. She picked a section and began pulling the books out one by one in a frenzied pace. Within the hour, the servants trickled in to join her. They, too, worked with a sense of urgency but for a different reason - they wanted to be done with this tedious duty and the end was now in sight.

-------

Late that afternoon, dark, ominous clouds gathered on the horizon and a strong breeze blew in from the Bay of Belfalas. After three days of talks, the council had finally put together a workable trade agreement with the Easterlings which was ratified by Aragorn and would be presented to their emissaries at the end of the month.

Legolas stood outside the citadel observing the sky. He closed his eyes for a moment, inhaling the scent of the sea that was carried on the wind.

'If only I could be on a ship to Valinor right now.' He mourned. He imagined himself standing at the bow, arms outstretched, feeling the sea air rush past his face and whip through his hair; a feeling of utter freedom and release as he raced towards the Undying Lands. To be welcomed by her shores and feel the gentle embrace of peace and to find rest from the troubles and worries of this world. It was times like this that Legolas felt torn in two. He did not wish to be parted from his friends nor would he break his vow to remain in Middle Earth until the last member of the Fellowship had passed on, but the desire to answer the call of the sea was strong in him and sometimes there were moments when he wanted to give in to it.

Aragorn joined him, silently puffing on his pipe.

"A storm is coming." Legolas said nodding towards the horizon.

"It is indeed. Quite unusual for this time of year, although it does seem to match your disposition."

It was partly meant in jest to lighten the mood, but there was some seriousness to Aragorn's statement as well. Legolas, who was usually quick to throw a witty response back at the man, said nothing and continued his solemn contemplation of the sky.

"Have you spoken with her?"

"No. I awoke with the sun. I did not want to disturb her sleep. By the time I returned to her quarters, she was gone."

"Have you checked the archives? That would be my best guess as to her whereabouts."

"Mine as well but I have no desire to interrupt her search. I will wait."

"Is there something else wrong, my friend?"

Legolas shook his head. "It is nothing."

Aragorn scrutinized the elf gazing at the sky. "The sea. I can smell it in the air. It is calling you home."

"Aye." Legolas answered in a strange, far-away voice, refusing to look Aragorn.

-------

As each servant finished their last section, they began to congregate off to the side of the room. Finally, only the servant who had the highest section had yet to reach the end. Moving the ladder every few feet had slowed his progress. Everyone watched and waited as the last few books were pulled off the shelf. He climbed back down the ladder, turned to Jordan, and shook his head. Every book within the archives had been picked up or in some way touched by human hands. The linking book was not among them.

"That's it then." He said. "We've searched the entire archives. The book, it ain't here my lady."

Jordan stared in disbelief. She staggered back a few steps, bumped into a bench, and sat down with a thud. Without the linking book, she was trapped. Her plan to take herself out of the equation of Legolas' life, forcing him to move on and find someone else, had failed. She would have to remain, she would have to pretend she no longer cared for him, and she would have to bear witness to his suffering. Jordan always knew there was a chance the book would not be found in the archives. Perhaps it had been here at one time but it had been taken, moved to another location, or could have even been destroyed. If it was still intact, it could be anywhere in Middle Earth. Finding it would be next to impossible.

None of them could understand why a book would be so important to Jordan, but she wore a look of such devastation, even the servants that had spoken ill of her the day before took pity on her. With their task now complete, the servants slowly filed past Jordan towards the door, some mumbling their condolences, leaving her alone in the archives.

She couldn't cry. She could only stare at the rows of dusty books, frozen; her body numb. She didn't know how long she stayed like that. Even when she heard footsteps, she did not turn her gaze until someone's form cast a shadow over her.

"I came to tell you Arwen's tea social has been held off until tomorrow because of the coming storm." Eowyn said.

Jordan responded with a nod of her head and returned to staring at the shelves.

"Are you alright?"

Jordan did not answer. She couldn't form the words. What would she say anyway? Eowyn looked around the empty archives then back at Jordan, coming to the conclusion that the linking book had not been found. She thought back to the reasoning Jordan gave for her quest to find it and was puzzled by her reaction. It would be disappointing, yes, but not devastating. There was something Jordan was not telling her. Their conversation from this morning came to mind; then it hit her and her eyes widened. Eowyn pointed her finger at her as if she were accusing her of some crime.

"You were going to use it! You were going go back home!" Eowyn said incredulously.

"Yes." Jordan said flatly. She kept her gaze fixed on the shelves; she could not look Eowyn in the eyes. "I was going to use it."

"Why?" Eowyn asked, her voice strained with the shock.

"What difference does it make?" She snapped back. "The book's not here to use!"

"What about Legolas?"

The thought of someone deliberately hurting Legolas made Eowyn's blood boil. Although he projected the hard exterior of a fierce warrior, underneath, his true nature was loving, kind, and gentle and Eowyn felt protective over him especially when it came to matters of the heart.

Jordan stood up with her fists clenched. "What _about_ Legolas?"

"Do you care so little about him?"

"No! I care _too much _about him!"

"You say you care about him and yet you would leave him without uttering a word? Did you even discuss it with him or were you just going to disappear and let him - let all of us - wonder what happened?!"

"It would never work between us, Eowyn. He needs to find someone else. I cannot give him what he deserves."

Eowyn's eyes narrowed and her gaze turned icy cold. "So it would seem." She spun around tossing her long golden hair behind her and walked out the door.

Jordan sat back down heavily on the bench and put her head in her hands. Tears leaked from the corners of her eyes and dripped between her fingertips. She hid in the archives for a long time, reluctant to leave. She felt that to walk out that door was to resign herself to her fate and she was not ready, but she knew she couldn't stay much longer. The walk back to her quarters was long and arduous and Eowyn had said a storm was coming. When she heard the roar of a downpour outside, she realized it was too late. The storm had already descended upon the city bringing with it a deluge of rain and wind. Thunder cracked and rumbled angrily and lightning lit up the blackened sky.

-------

Jordan was drenched to the bone by the time she reached her quarters. Her hair stuck to her face in stringy rivulets dripping water in her eyes. The waterlogged fabric of her gown clung to her legs uncomfortably and made walking difficult. She was grateful, at least, that the rain disguised the tears that continued to fall. She flung open the door and rushed in throwing it closed behind her. When she looked up and saw Legolas reclined on the couch reading a book, she gasped loudly she was so startled. It was only a few seconds, but it was long enough for her eyes to have caught every detail and record it to memory. He wore no tunic; only loose pants made of some silken material held at his waist with a drawstring. She could see clearly the well-defined muscles of his arms, chest and abdomen underneath his smooth, flawless skin. His hair was wet as if he had just bathed or, like her, had been caught in the storm. It hung loose about his shoulders and down his chest, free from the braids he normally wore.

She quickly spun around and covered her eyes even though there was no need to with her back towards him. She was so accustomed to seeing people completely clothed at all times, the sight of Legolas' bare skin took her by surprise, and she assumed it was probably considered improper to see him in such a state.

"Oh my gosh! I am so sorry!" She gasped. "Wait, what are you doing in my quarters?"

Legolas stood up. "You can turn around. There is no need to avert your eyes."

He slipped on the robe that lay on the couch beside him so she would not feel uncomfortable.

Slowly, she turned around to face Legolas. She saw he now wore a long robe in the same silken material as his pants but he hadn't tied the sash and it hung open, still showing a sliver of his bare chest. Jordan glanced around the room. She didn't remember having a couch in her quarters. She groaned and closed her eyes.

"These are _your_ quarters aren't they." She stated dismayingly; her reddening cheeks a testament to her embarrassment.

Legolas smiled. Although he knew she must feel awkward, he couldn't help but find her reaction endearing.

"Yes, my lady, they are."

Jordan stumbled over her words. "The doors…they all look alike and um…I wasn't paying attention…I mean I didn't…It was raining. I was in a hurry and…oh, I'm sorry. I should go. Goodnight." She blurted out and turned to leave.

He realized the timing was poor. She probably wanted nothing more than to get out of her dripping wet clothes but it was imperative that he talk to her, and now that they were in the same room together this was his chance.

"Wait, please do not leave yet." Quickly tying the sash of his robe, he reached out for her. "There is something I would like to speak to you about."

Jordan panicked. She stopped and took a half turn to look back at Legolas. She wasn't in any condition to discuss last night or anything else with him. At that moment she wished to be anywhere but in that room. She looked down at herself, once again aware of her sodden dress dripping on the stone tiles. Tears were welling up in her eyes; tears she didn't want Legolas to see.

"I can't. Now is not a good time. I'm sorry."

She turned again, rushed out the door, and flung it closed behind her.

(Music queue - Same Mistake

To listen, visit this chapter at Elvenladyofithilien dot com)

Legolas' hand fell to his side and he stood in the middle of the room staring at the door. He heard the heavy thud as the door in Jordan's quarters closed. Closing his eyes for a moment, he took a deep breath and then sat back down on the couch. Was it that she couldn't wait to get dried off or was she still so angry about the incident at dinner last night that she couldn't speak to him? A part of him wanted to burst into her quarters and demand she listen to what he had to say but he knew it would only make matters worse.

-------

Jordan peeled off her soggy gown, wrung it out, and hung it over the edge of the bathing tub to dry. Leaning over the tub, she squeezed the water out of her hair and dried it with a towel. She put on her sleeping gown, wrapped the small throw blanket that was laid out on the bed around her shoulders, and flopped down in the chair. The storm had brought a chill to the air and she wondered if possibly fall was nearing. She would ask Turgon to teach her the months and seasons when she returned home. Home? Had she really referred to Emyn Arnen as home? She sighed. Now that she was trapped in Middle Earth, it was the only one she had.

The rain was still pounding the stone walls of the city outside. She closed her eyes and listened to the sound remembering how she used to love to listen to the rain falling on the roof. The image of Legolas dressed in his silk sleeping pants came to mind. How wonderful it would be to be laying in bed cuddled up to him right now while the storm raged overhead. The bitter truth, though, was it would not be _her_ who lay next to him, but another woman, or she-elf, touching him; kissing him. It pained her to think of him with someone else but that was essentially what she was asking of him by pushing him away. Her thoughts turned to herself. She had lied, deceived, manipulated. She had now become everything she hated.


	18. Rise to the Occasion

A.N: Hello lovely readers. I want to take a moment to thank you for your kind comments on the last chapter and well-wishes about my mother. Thankfully, she is on her way to recovery. I know it's been longer than my usual monthly posting increment, but I have been spending a lot of time in the D'ni cavern lately. A game called Myst Online offered through Gametap lets you explore the cavern in a live, real-time environment with other "explorers" from all around the world - a most unique and wonderful way to explore the D'ni city and interact with other players. I would highly recommend it to you all as you can go see and explore for yourself the places I have written about. You can sit on the library landing and look out over the cavern in the exact same spot that Jordan did when she read the journal entries on the kings and ate her lunch. You can peer down the alley where the building collapsed nearly killing Victor Laxman (it is partially curtained off). Visit the Great Tree pub where she met with Zach. Explore Kirel, the neighborhood where Jordan stayed during her visit. Unfortunately though, they are shutting the game down in April. You could still enjoy it for a while anyway, but the downside is it requires a monthly subscription to Gametap.

Another reason why this chapter took me longer than usual is I felt that it was pivotal chapter and it had to be just right. I agonized over every word, revising and editing until at last, I felt like it was worthy. The next chapter is almost complete as well. My goal is to have it out by Valentine's day, but I don't promise anything.

Until next time…

- ELoI

* * *

**Chapter 16 - Rise to the Occasion**

The battle of the elements wore on throughout the night, but the dark clouds eventually conceded to the morning sun and bowed out, ushering in a radiant blue sky. As the haziness from a night of broken and restless sleep faded, she became acutely aware of a sense of oppression and dread weighing heavily upon her heart. It was as if she was waking to a nightmare instead of from one.

'It must be early.' She thought. She hadn't recalled hearing the first bell that woke the city from its slumber. There was no reason to linger in bed any longer; sleep would not come. She drug herself out of bed and went into the bathing chamber to wash up. The dress she wore last night was still draped over the edge of the tub. She picked it up and felt of it. It had dried, but it was stiff and somewhat wrinkled. As she held it, she thought of Legolas in the next room. She imagined him sleeping peacefully in his bed; his golden hair splayed out on the pillow framing his face. She longed to look upon him like that; to sit on the edge of the bed and stroke his hair while he slept. After a few moments, he would open his eyes and smile lovingly at her; reach up and brush her cheek with the back of his hand. She would lean down and press her lips to his. Suddenly, she shook herself out of her daydream and berated herself for how easily she let her thoughts run wild. It only made it harder to pull away from him. In frustration, she balled up the dress and slammed it in the basket to be laundered on her way out of the bathing chamber.

She put on one of her plainer gowns, opting for comfort rather than style. Afterwards, she sat down at the vanity and brushed out her hair. The sun streamed into her quarters through every opening, creating a mosaic of light and dark on the stone tile floor; its warmth was already strong enough to chase away the early morning chill. It was the kind of morning that Jordan relished back home on a rare day off - quiet, peaceful, comfortable; the perfect setting to relax on the balcony with a cup of coffee and watch the world go by. As much as she wished to enjoy it, her heart just wasn't in it.

She knew she would have to find something to occupy her time today or her brooding would drive her mad. She doubted after yesterday that Eowyn would be calling upon her to have breakfast and without Eowyn, that left few options. Maybe she could go to the market Eowyn had mentioned several times. She imagined it being similar to the arts and crafts booths at the medieval festival they used to have every year at the park just outside her city. She couldn't buy anything, but it might be interesting to look around. Of course, it seemed less appealing when she realized all of the walking it would require, but she supposed she could always sit down and take frequent breaks. Before her accident, something as simple as walking was never given a single thought. It was as reflexive as breathing. Now the limitations thereof had to be factored in with every decision.

Jordan turned herself around to sit backwards on the vanity bench and in the process, knocked her foot into her cane which was leaning up against the vanity. It went skittering across the floor and out of her reach. She clenched her fists and howled in anger. Today was not the day to try her patience. She was so tired of having to walk with it, needing it at all times, always having to think about it. She could never just get up from a chair and walk away, she had to locate her cane first and it seemed like she was always dropping it or knocking it over. If she could walk over to it, she would hurl it across the room, and that was just what she was going to do. With determination, she stood up using the vanity for support. Once she felt stable on her feet, she stepped out with her injured leg and set her foot flat on the floor. Shifting her weight, she took a small step with the other leg. She found that as long as she did not come up on the ball of her foot while she transitioned to the other leg, her injured leg would support her. She took a few more small steps in the same manner. It was more of a shuffling motion than walking but it was still unassisted and that was good enough for Jordan. She bent down and picked the cane up with the intent to throw it, but found her efforts had dissipated her anger. Turning it over in her hand, she studied the intricate vine detail that Legolas had painstakingly carved for her and felt bad for wanting to destroy it. She held it horizontally in both hands, using it for balance, and turning around, she began to walk back across the room. The more steps she took, the more her confidence grew, but she became too eager. By instinct, she rose up on the ball of her foot to take another step and her foot gave out. She knew she was going down but couldn't stop herself. As she fell, the cane flew out of her hands, hit one of the posts of the bed frame, and clattered to the ground. She landed on her hands and knees on the hard stone floor, crying out from the impact that jolted her bones and joints.

With a groan, she turned over and sat down on the floor, rubbing her knees through her dress to sooth the stinging pain. Just then, Legolas came running into her quarters using the balcony entrance, saw her sitting on the floor, and rushed to her side.

"Jordan! Are you alright? I heard you fall."

"How could you hear that?"

"Elves have excellent hearing, remember?" He smiled sympathetically. "Are you hurt?"

"Just my pride, mostly."

"What happened?"

"I was trying to walk without my cane."

Legolas raised his eyebrows in surprise. "Were you at all successful?"

"For a little bit."

"Here, let me help you up." He picked her up easily as if she weighed nothing and set her down on the edge of the bed.

"How did you land when you fell?"

"On my hands and knees."

"Let me see."

"Legolas, it's nothing."

Ignoring her protest, he knelt at her feet and lifted the hem of her dress just above her knees. She had a large, bright pink scrape on each knee cap. He prodded around the scrape gently, checking for injuries to the bone.

"Ow!" She winced.

"Sorry. You are probably going to have some bruising."

She nodded. She already knew as much but said nothing. It was sweet the way he was trying to play the part of healer, so she let him continue his examination. He paused when he saw the scar on her leg. He ran his fingers over it lightly, feeling a stab of regret. If only he could have prevented it; if only he had reached her sooner. He pulled her dress back down over her knees and held out his hands expectantly. She put her hands in his with her palms up, so he could examine them as well. He ran his thumbs over the palms of her hands. There was only a tiny scrape on the heel of one of her hands.

He let her hands go and said, "You should let the healers put some liniment on your wounds."

"No, Legolas, it's fine, really. I'm a big girl, I can handle it. It just stings a little."

He sat down on the edge of the bed beside her and a moment of silence passed between them.

Now that they were together, Legolas could finally apologize for his behavior at the delegate's dinner.

"Jordan, there is something I have been wanting to say to you." He began.

Jordan immediately felt the urge to flee but managed to suppress it. Whatever he had to say, he would eventually find a way to say it. There was no point in avoiding it any longer.

"What is it?"

She maintained a calm exterior, but inside she was cringing. What if he was going to ask to court her as Eowyn said he would? She was not prepared right now to refuse him.

"I wanted to apologize for my actions at the delegate's dinner. I do not know what came over me. I am sorry."

Jordan looked into his eyes - luminous rings of the brightest cerulean surrounding darker pools of the deepest depths. Rippling on the surface, she saw her own reflection; broken and fragmented, like her heart. A part of her wanted so badly to tell him of her past. Rejection would almost be better than this torment she was in - this duality of emotions - yearning, yet not wanting; resolute, yet weak. Maybe there was a chance he would be understanding. She was always trying to interpret the aspects of their relationship in the terms and conditions of _her_ world. Maybe they no longer applied in this world.

"Legolas, I…" She couldn't do it. The words would not come. "I'm sorry too. I'm sorry I lied to you."

Legolas' body sagged with relief. Her hesitancy had started to worry him. He pulled her into his arms and held her. She stiffened at first as she struggled with her conflicting emotions but his gentle touch broke down her defenses and she relaxed into him and rested her head on his chest.

That strange sensation was coming over her again. Lately she had noticed if she was around Legolas for any length of time, she would get these feelings - emotions that didn't seem to come from within her, rather from the outside washing over her like waves. The first time she really noticed it was the day Legolas took her to the waterfall. Sometimes they were darker emotions that fueled her own but most of the time, like now, they were feelings of hopefulness and contentment surrounding her and filling her senses until any troubled thoughts she had began to yield. The sensation was never overpowering, just insistent and if she was not careful, she would find herself lulled by its gentle persuasion into believing nothing else mattered; not the difference in their life spans; not the differences in their race and culture. Those issues became trivial and meaningless; easily dismissed as something to be addressed in the future. She thought maybe it was something she was doing subconsciously; a way for her psyche to circumnavigate its own misgivings and validate her feelings for him. As much as she wanted to believe they could exist in this state of blissful ignorance, no one can shut out the world forever. The reality of life will find you and force you to face it. Somehow Aragorn and Arwen found a way to make it work. Perhaps she should talk to her. Maybe she could lend some insight.

"Shall we put this incident behind us then?"

"Yes." She said into his chest.

"Good. I am glad. May I escort you down to the archives today?"

Jordan sat upright again. "I'm not going to the archives. The search is over. The book was not there." She said, her voice tinged with bitterness.

"Oh, I see." He said softly. "Is this the reason then for your dispirited temperament lately?"

Jordan looked at him questioningly, wondering how he could be so intuitive when she had spent maybe a few minutes with him in the last couple days.

"It radiates off you like heat from a flame."

She looked down at her lap. "Yes, I suppose it is." Well, it was partly the reason, anyway.

"I am sorry. I think there are reasons why events may take a certain course and sometimes we cannot know their full purpose right away. What we do not receive presently may turn out to be a blessing in the future, if that is any consolation."

When she did not comment, he continued. "Had I known, I would not have made plans, but alas, I am spending the day with Aragorn. We are climbing above Minas Tirith up Mount Mindolluin."

"You're going _mountain climbing_?" She didn't know why, but it surprised her.

"Yes." He said with a mischievous gleam in his eye.

"It sounds dangerous."

"Are you saying you are concerned about my welfare?" He prodded, raising one eyebrow in interest.

He was trying to goad her into admitting she cared for him but she wasn't about to fall for it.

"Well…" She stammered. "Of course, I am concerned about the welfare of you _both_!" Just to rile him, she added, "I mean, should something untoward happen, where would Gondor be without its king?"

Legolas put his hand over his heart. "Oh! A touching sentiment, truly." He replied with mock sarcasm. "The only real danger is standing behind Aragorn if he should fall, as ungainly and graceless as men are. He would no doubt take _me_ down with him! So, if we do not return, you will know who to blame and where to send the search party." He ended with a hearty laugh.

Jordan slapped his arm "That's not funny!"

"You concern is endearing but do not fret. It is only a short climb. Most likely we will not even reach where the snow begins." He patted her shoulder reassuringly and stood up. He pulled Jordan to her feet and handed her cane to her. "With that, I should be on my way. He is probably waiting on me…" Then with a devilish grin, he added, "eager to meet his doom."

She put her hands on her hips and grunted with indignity at his teasing. He laughed and jumped out of the way in case she tried to hit him again.

"Are you meeting Aragorn at his home?"

"Yes, why?"

"I would like to go with you to see Arwen."

"An excellent idea, of course you may. I am certain she would enjoy the company and it will give you two a chance to get to know one another better…_and_ perhaps you can console her in the event Aragorn is defeated by the mountain."

"Legolas!"

"Okay!" He laughed again and put his hands up in surrender. "I am sorry."

As they walked out the door, Jordan shook her finger at Legolas. "Now wouldn't you feel terrible if something did happen?" She said, scolding him jokingly.

"In all truthfulness, I may jest greatly at the man's expense, but he is like kin to me. I would never let anything happen to him."

-------

When they emerged from tunnel that brought them to the seventh level, Jordan saw the mountains rising up behind the Citadel, towering to a dizzying height, and pointed to them.

"Is that where you two are going?"

"As far west as the eye can see is the range called the White Mountains, but see that peak in front there?" Legolas pointed out.

"Yes."

"_That_ is Mount Mindolluin, our destination."

Jordan stopped when they reached the soft green grass of the courtyard.

Legolas got a few steps ahead of her before he realized she had stopped. He turned on his heel and walked back to her.

"Is there something wrong?"

"The grass won't hurt as much if I fall. Will you hold my cane?"

He realized she was going to try walk without it again. He tucked her cane under one arm and grasped her upper arm lightly.

"I will not let you fall."

The first few steps came awkwardly, self-conscious as she was of her lumbering gait. When she got a rhythm going, Legolas let go of her arm but kept pace in case she stumbled. She managed to walk the length of the courtyard, coming to a stop at the steps of the Tower Hall.

"Well, it wasn't very pretty, but I did it." She said shakily.

"You did, indeed." He said, beaming at her with pride.

She gave a short laugh, feeling exhilarated by her progress. She was one step closer to freedom. Legolas held out her cane to her, smiling down at her warmly. She reached out to take it, but stopped cold when she looked into his eyes. What she thought she saw there made her breath hitch in her chest and her heart to skip a beat - the look of love.

"Not so long ago, you told me you would never walk. Today you are walking on your own. Who knows what tomorrow will hold."

Her face flushed and her heart pounded. A shy smile was all she could offer him as she took her cane back from him. The palms of her hands were becoming clammy and beginning to sweat like they always did when she got nervous. Her grip on the handle of her cane was getting slippery. Her mind raced as they continued on their way to the home of Aragorn and Arwen. She couldn't be certain about what she saw; but if it was, what now?

--------

As they came upon the gate to the king's private residence, the heavy iron doors were opened by the guards who recognized Legolas and were expecting him. Aragorn and Arwen were sitting at a dining table in their courtyard leisurely nibbling from large platters of bread and fruit when Legolas and Jordan arrived.

"Good morning to you both." Legolas said with a nod of his head. "You do remember the Lady Jordan?" He said, presenting her with a sweep of his arm. Jordan gave a slight curtsy as she approached the table.

"Good morning, your Majesties."

Aragorn stood and motioned to Jordan. "Now here is a fine example of how to properly address a king and queen. You could take a lesson or two from your lady-friend, Elf." He said with a grin. Legolas shot him a sarcastic look as he pulled a chair out for Jordan. After Jordan was seated, Aragorn reclaimed his chair and Legolas took the one across from him. Arwen smiled at Aragorn lovingly and ruffled his hair.

"What my boorish husband meant to say was," she addressed her guests, "welcome and please help yourselves to some breakfast."

Legolas and Aragorn burst into laughter.

"Forgive me, Lady Jordan, I am but joking. You need not address us formally at all. Simply our first names will be fine." Aragorn told her.

They grazed on the bread and fruit and conversed for a bit but Aragorn and Legolas had no time to linger if they wanted to make it back before nightfall.

Arwen turned to Jordan and asked, "Will you stay for tea after Legolas and my husband leave? I am sure there is much we have to talk about."

"Sure. I would like that."

"Wonderful." Aragorn clasped his hands together. The Man and Elf both stood up to leave. "Enjoy your day ladies. Legolas, shall we?"

Aragorn came up behind Arwen and she turned around to face him as he leaned down to kiss her. She touched his cheek as her lips met his.

"Goodbye, my sweet." He whispered.

When Legolas approached her, Jordan stood to meet him. He took her hand and kissed it, bowing his head as he did so, letting his lips linger on the delicate skin. When at last he looked up, she smiled at him and it filled his heart with joy. Both Aragorn and Arwen watched curiously as this subtle display of affection played out.

"Be careful." She told him.

He flashed her a grin, spun around, and with a spring in his step, walked out the gates with Aragorn in tow.

Jordan sat back down and noticed Arwen was studying her intently. She suddenly felt very self-conscious.

"I sense there is more going on than what the two of you have recently professed." Arwen stated.

Jordan tried to feign ignorance. "I don't know what you mean."

"Oh, I think you do. You and Legolas have crossed the boundaries of mere camaraderie."

Jordan blanched, neither denying nor confirming her claim. The She-Elf could see right through her.

Upon seeing Jordan's uneasy reaction, she added, "The pairing of an Elf and a mortal, like Aragorn and myself, is unusual but it is not forbidden. Do not feel as if you have to hide your romance."

Jordan sighed. "It's not that."

"Legolas' affection for you runs deep. Perhaps you do not share his sentiment?"

"I do care about him, he's wonderful, but…"

Arwen finished her sentence for her. "But you have doubts."

Jordan laughed bitterly. "Wouldn't you?"

They talked well into the afternoon. Arwen shared with Jordan how she met and fell in love with Aragorn and about her father's prerequisite for her hand in marriage that kept them apart for so long.

"Arwen, may I ask you a personal question?"

"You may." She said graciously.

Jordan hesitated, trying to think of a way to pose her question respectfully. "I am wondering how you and Aragorn reconcile with the fact that you are immortal and he is not."

"It does not concern us for I am immortal no longer."

"How?

"I chose to live a mortal life like that of my husband."

"Elves can just _choose_ to be mortal?" She asked in amazement. The gears in her mind began turning and her thoughts were going in every direction. Her heart beat faster with excitement. Could Legolas just 'turn off' his immortality and be like her? Could they spend their lives together growing old gracefully and following the natural course of humanity that she was so accustomed to?

"Not _all_ Elves. I am Peredhel - half-elven. Therefore, I could choose whether to be counted among Elves or Men." Arwen paused to study the woman with her curious line of questioning. "You are thinking of Legolas in this matter."

Jordan sighed and nodded. "Yes."

"Through Legolas runs the pure blood of the Silvan race. He cannot forsake his immortality."

Jordan's heart sank and her thoughts of the future came to a crushing halt. There was no way out of it. Should he still want her after she gathered the courage to reveal her past to him, should they decide to spend their live together, he would still be left behind when she passed on. The only unknown was what would happen to him after that. She was terrified to learn the answer but she had to know.

Very hesitantly, she asked the dreaded question. "If we were to marry someday, what would become of Legolas when I die?"

"He must sail to Valinor where he can come to terms with his grief and find healing. If he does not, or for some reason cannot, he will fade."

"What does that mean, 'fade'?"

"It means he will die. He will diminish over time slowly becoming overcome by his grief. He will fade into the shadows and give up his life. Then, his _feä_, or spirit, will pass on to the Halls of Mandos where it will dwell until such a time when it is judged." Arwen saw the despair that Jordan felt and took pity on her. "I know that is not what you wanted to hear, but I feel it is necessary that you know the truth."

Jordan's eyes filled with tears. She felt an aching hollowness in her chest, her heart torn in two. She closed her eyes and the tears slowly cascaded down her cheeks. She took a deep breath and opened them again with a look of steeled determination.

"Then we cannot be. I won't let that happen to him. I cannot."

"There are no words of wisdom I can offer to help guide you on your path; you must find your own way, but if Legolas loves you, he may have already made his decision."

Jordan sniffed. "His decision for what?"

"To sacrifice himself."

With those words, Jordan felt like she just had the wind knocked out of her. She took a moment to compose herself. She did not want to have a break down in front of a dignified queen. "Would you? Would you have chosen to be with Aragorn could you not have given up your immortality?"

"Yes. I would have endured an eternity of sorrow for one lifetime with him. Understand this though - choosing the fate of Men was not without consequence. To become mortal meant I also had to choose between Aragorn and my family. I cannot sail to the Undying Lands and I will never see them again. It may be a small measure of comfort to you, but that is something Legolas will not have to face."

They talked for a while longer but Jordan's mood had been dampened and the conversation was waning. Eventually, Jordan politely excused herself claiming there was something she needed to do and thanked Arwen for her hospitality.

"You are always welcome here." Arwen said. "It is unfortunate we did not have more time to get acquainted." Arwen said. "It seems like you have only just arrived and yet tomorrow you depart."

"Ahh..." Jordan was taken aback. "I was not aware that we were leaving tomorrow."

"I believe that is Faramir and Legolas' intent."

"Oh." Jordan said almost disappointedly. She had mixed feelings about returning to Emyn Arnen. She was used to the city now. Emyn Arnen seemed so different; so distant and secluded.

"But I am certain we will see each other again."

"I look forward to it."

-------

Jordan left the sanctuary of Arwen's courtyard feeling utterly hopeless. She had sought Arwen out hoping by some chance she would find _the_ answer that solved all of her problems and instead she found nothing more than another complication. She had no destination, so she just wandered, following the road wherever it led her, her face twisted in heart-wrenching devastation and the weight of the world bearing down on her shoulders. Even if he would accept her as she was, there was no way she could let him make that kind of sacrifice. It was too much; too high of a price to pay for a few fleeting moments of love - for that is all it would seem compared to eternity. She eyed the tall, snow-peaked mountains nervously. Legolas was somewhere up there. _Where are you, Legolas?_

A sudden commotion shook her out of her tormented introspection. It was coming from down the street. She could hear people shouting and then a woman wailing. She walked quickly in the direction of the noise, anxious to see what had happened. A crowd was starting to form in the middle of the street as people came out of their houses and business to investigate. She joined the crowd, impatiently rising up on her toes every few moments and craning her neck see over the heads of people. In the distance, she caught a glimpse of a group of soldiers on horseback coming their way in a hurry. The shouting grew louder as the soldiers broke through the crowd. As they rushed past her, Jordan could see that some were wounded and their armor stained with blood. Some of the more seriously injured rode in front of the soldiers that were still strong enough to carry them. Her hand flew to cover her mouth in shock as her mind reeled in confusion. Had there been a battle? To her knowledge, there was no discord between Gondor and any other kingdoms. The soldiers stopped just a little further up the street in front of the Houses of Healing. Instinct took over. With an influx of wounded, the healers might need some help. She rushed over as fast as she could and joined the procession of soldiers carrying the wounded into the building.

Inside, the atmosphere was chaotic as the injured men were being laid out on beds and the healers were scrambling to treat them. The cries of a distraught woman pierced the air as she was dragged away from the man she clung to, presumably her husband, so he could be attended to. Jordan sought out the nearest person who looked like they worked here, grabbed them, and identified herself.

"I am a healer. Do you need some assistance?"

The matronly woman paused briefly, looking Jordan up and down skeptically, but then seemed to have a change of heart. She pointed to the far wall and said, "The medicines and supplies are over there; do what you can."

"Where can I wash my hands?"

"What?"

"I need to wash my hands before I treat any patients. Where can I do that?"

The woman looked bewildered but motioned across the room towards the exit to the garden where a fountain stood and hurriedly walked away. Thankfully there was soap and dry towels in little niches carved into the wall above the fountain. At least it wasn't a bowl of stagnant water that everyone had dipped their hands in.

As Jordan hurried back into the fray, she noticed soldiers laying some of the men on the floor when there were still empty beds available.

"Why are you laying these men out on the floor?" She asked one of them.

He looked at her strangely. "They're dead, my lady."

She shook her head in frustration. Apparently these men had not survived their wounds long enough to reach the city. In her country at least, soldiers of all ranks knew and practiced basic field medicine. If the Gondorian soldiers would have had some form of training in this respect, more than just wrapping a wound with a piece of torn cloth, the casualties would have been lessened this day.

The stench of blood was in the air and the cries and groans of the injured echoed around the room. There were seventeen men in all that were still alive upon being brought to the Houses of Healing. Jordan moved swiftly from bed to bed, assessing the soldier's injuries, determining who among them she could treat and which ones could not be saved, all the while making a mental check list of the supplies she would need. Most of the potentially treatable injuries she noted involved superficial lacerations, dislocations, puncture wounds, broken ribs and other various fractures. Of the more serious injuries she saw - a skull fracture from blunt force trauma, deep gashes with damage to internal organs, a punctured lung, an open compound fracture of the femur - none were treatable by any means here in Middle Earth. Although the healers here were skilled in their own right, compared to the practices of modern medicine, their limitations were great. If the men that suffered these grievous injuries survived long enough for the lesser injured men to be stabilized, they could only be given comfort measures until they passed away.

Jordan rushed over to the shelves where the supplies were kept and was dismayed to see what was available. She would have to start thinking outside of the bounds of proper medical practices and rely more on creativity and resourcefulness. She dug around in the supplies trying to find some type of suture material and needles, finally coming up with some crude thread but no needles. She spied a roll of material that looked like it could be used for bandages or a makeshift sling and grabbed that as well and rushed over to one of the healers.

"Where do you keep needles?"

"Over here, I'll show you."

The woman led her over to the supply shelves, opened a wooden box, and pulled out a square of soft leather with various sized needles inserted into it. Jordan groaned in disappointment. They were simply straight sewing needles, not at all like the curved suture needles she was used to. They didn't even have a cutting surface. They would just have to be barbarically shoved through the skin doing more damage to the area of injury.

Jordan selected a few and handed the leather holder back. "What was your name?"

"I am Mariwen"

"Thank you, Mariwen. I am Jordan."

Mariwen nodded and hurried back to her patient.

As she walked past the row of dead bodies laid out on the ground, she noticed one of them was not a soldier; he was garbed in plain clothes. She stepped closer and looked down curiously at him. Something about him looked familiar. She gasped and fell to her knees beside the man. It was Turgon! Sparse, scraggly stubble now grew where a full beard had been, but there was no mistaking him.

"Oh, Turgon." She whispered mournfully.

There was a soiled cloth lying across his neck. She suspected it was covering a wound, but she lifted it up anyway, groaned in disgust, and covered him back up. His throat was slit. Dried blood formed a crust on the wound's gaping edges and stained his neck in dark crimson streaks.

She grabbed one of the soldiers by the arm and pointed to Turgon.

"Was this man with you?"

"He was a lone traveler. We came upon his camp last evening and set up there offering protection while we could. Do you know him?"

"He is a friend. Do you know where he was traveling to?"

"No, my lady."

"What happened?"

"We were ambushed by a party of Orcs. They came upon us while we slept, just before dawn." He stated matter-of-factly and walked away.

Jordan was numb with shock. She had not known Turgon very well. In fact, were someone to ask her about his personal life, she could not answer, but he had been her teacher in all things Middle Earth. She had shared with him her past and her origins; trusted him with this confidential information. He was kind, astute, and scholarly; much like her father. They were alike not only in character but in his style of teaching - engaging and good-natured but ingeniously demanding. The discovery of Turgon's death reopened the fresh scars from her father's recent passing, making it all the more difficult to bear. She fought back the tears that distorted her vision and focused on the task at hand.

-------

Jordan was crouched on her knees painstakingly suturing a laceration to a soldier's thigh when she heard a deep voice from behind her.

"Pardon me, my lady."

She turned her head and looked up to see one of the Gondorian soldiers holding two bags - a satchel and one that looked like a leather saddle bag. Dropping them at her feet he said, "These belonged to your friend. Perhaps you could return them to his family?"

She stared at the bags in a daze. "Sure, alright." She stammered.

The soldier gave a nod of his head and left.

She didn't know if Turgon even had any family. It would have to wait, anyway. Her mind was too weary to think about it. She set the bags off in a corner for now and turned her attention back to suturing the wound. It was deep and it needed a row of subdermal sutures but as there was no absorbable suture material in existence, a single layer closure would have to suffice.

-------

Word spread quickly through the city of the Orc attack on the Gondorian patrol. Mordren, captain of the Gondorian army and a handful of his officers all paced restlessly in the Tower Hall anxiously awaiting the arrival of Aragorn, who had yet to return from his excursion, so they could plan their retaliation. The enormous doors began to open and the soldiers looked to it expectantly, but it was not Aragorn who entered, it was Eomer and Faramir.

"King Eomer." Mordren greeted him with a nod of his head albeit with some confusion. "Forgive me, but this is not your fight. What are you doing here?"

"Not my fight?" Eomer rebutted with an edge of anger. "Today Orcs attack Gondor, tomorrow will they attack Rohan? No. It matters not what country. They are an abomination that plagues all of Middle Earth! If there is but one Orc left to be slaughtered, then I for one will gladly rise to the occasion." Eomer said.

Mordren grinned and clapped him on the back. "Then I am proud to fight at your side, King of Rohan."

Faramir, however, had a different matter on his mind as he stood quietly with his arms crossed, sidewise from the group, in sullen contemplation. He had been privately informed that his faithful servant and friend, Turgon, had been counted among the dead. There could be only one explanation for Turgon to be traveling through the wilds of Gondor - he had found the linking book and was taking it away from the city in accordance with Faramir's orders. He was responsible for the man's death.

The enormous doors opened once more and Aragorn stormed in with Legolas following after.

"Tell me what has happened." Aragorn demanded.

One of the soldiers who survived the attack, a young man named Firindor, stepped forward and bowed. "Just before dawn, we were converged upon by a party of Orcs whilst we slept. We were caught unaware and outnumbered."

"Why were you not roused by the soldier on watch?"

"We did not designate a watch, my king. We did not deem it necessary. Orcs have not been seen roaming these lands for over two year's time."

"Not necessary?!" Aragorn fumed. "You are charged with the defense of this city and of this country at _all _times, not just in the waking hours! Do you think Gondor has no other enemies besides Orcs?!"

"Forgive me, my king." Firindor said humbly. "I was not in charge of the company. I only do what I am ordered, sire."

"Who then was your commander?"

"Ralthos. He's…He's dead, sire."

"Then I will not speak ill of the dead. Mordren, I expect you will inform your men that this practice will cease immediately. Their apathy has already cost many lives."

"I will see it done, King Elessar."

"How many were there?" Aragorn turned his attention back to Firindor.

"It was dark, sire; they came from all sides surrounding and completely overwhelming us. It was utter madness! It seemed like there were a hundred of them but I cannot be certain. We managed to slay maybe twenty of them at best, but it made little impact. Then suddenly, they retreated. They had us; they could have slaughtered the lot of us, but it was as if…" Firindor searched for the right words. "It was as if they were toying with us for sport."

"These numbers do not constitute an army, but until now, the Orcs have been nothing more than a few small leaderless factions scattered about the countryside. If they are coalescing as a unified force, it is a threat that Gondor must take action against." Legolas interjected.

"Agreed, but I do not want to alarm the city folk any more than has been done. I want to send out a small scouting party…discreetly. We need to know if these Orcs were acting alone or if they are part of a larger force. Mordren, you will head up the scouting party; no more than five men. Track down the Orcs but take care not to draw attention to yourselves. Watch their activity and their movements. You will leave before dawn, before the city wakes."

"Yes, sire."

Faramir spoke up for the first time in this discussion. "I wish to join the scouting party." His motivation was not so much out of loyalty to Gondor as it was out of guilt and the desire to exact revenge for the death of Turgon.

"I will go as well." Legolas said.

Aragorn looked to Mordren questioningly. "Is this acceptable to you?"

"It is."

"Count me in, too." Eomer added.

"Eomer, do you think that is wise? You have a duty to your throne." Aragorn said.

"Have the years caused you to think less of my skills in battle? I assure you, no harm will come to me."

"Well, if you do not mind being under Mordren's charge, then I will speak no more against it."

"I have no quarrel." Eomer replied.

"Then it is settled." Aragorn said.

"We meet before dawn at the Great Gate." Mordren informed them.

-------

Jordan had worked tirelessly for hours but now her strength was beginning to waver. Her eyes were having a difficult time focusing. Her hands ached. Her muscles burned with the strain of being bent over or crouched down for hours in an unnatural position. She had sewn up so many wounds, she felt more like a seamstress than a doctor. Jordan took a moment to stretch and glance around the room. It was eerily quiet now. Suddenly, she felt a hand on her shoulder. She turned around and saw the matronly woman she initially offered her help to.

"Thank you for your assistance today….eh, I do not believe I know your name."

"My name is Jordan."

"Thank you, Jordan. I am Astrid. The men are stable; there is nothing more you can do for now. You should take the time to rest and wash up. We may have need of your aid again."

Jordan wiped the perspiration from her brow with her sleeve. "Two of the men died shortly after I examined them. Were there any others that didn't make it?"

"Four others were lost despite our best efforts."

Jordan nodded and went to wash her hands.

-------

Jordan staggered out into the street exhausted, her dress stained with blood. The sun had already set and the evening sky was filling with stars. On the way to her quarters, she stopped a servant and requested a bath to be drawn for her. Once inside, she let out a huge sigh of relief. There she could have some respite from the tumult and the oppression of death. In the bathing chamber, she stripped off her soiled dress and held it out in front of her to inspect. The dress, she thought, had met its end; it would never come clean. She tossed it over by the basket and eased her aching body into the steaming water. She picked up a shard of sweetly smelling soap and roughly scrubbed every inch of her skin. She felt tainted somehow as if death itself left behind a tangible residue. Once she felt clean again, she laid her head back and closed her eyes, clearing her mind of all thought. Nothing existed outside the four walls that surrounded her.

She soaked until the water had cooled too much for comfort. She dried herself off with a rough drying cloth, lamenting the absence of big fluffy towels in Middle Earth. Just as she began to put on her sleeping gown, she remembered that she left Turgon's bags lying in a corner in the Houses of Healing. Tossing the sleeping gown on the bed, she quickly put on another gown and hurried down to retrieve them before they were picked up by someone else. She had not planned on leaving her quarters again tonight but it was just as well. While she was there, she could check on some of her patients and change their bandages if need be.

-------

The Houses of Healing was quiet and gently lit by candlelight. All of the dead had been carried off; to where she did not know. She nodded to Astrid in greeting and stopped at several of the beds to check on some of the men she had treated, carefully undoing the bandages to inspect the stitches and look for signs of infection. She was pleased to see the resident healers had already cleaned the wounds and applied fresh bandages. She made her way to the corner where she left Turgon's belongings and to her relief, they were still there right where she left them.

She slung the bags over her shoulder and wandered through the Houses of Healing and out into the garden. It was a peaceful and rather warm night with just a gentle whisper of a breeze. If one didn't know any better, one would think all was right with the world on this night. She was slightly curious as to what Turgon's bags contained, so she sat down on a bench and began to thumb through their contents. The first bag contained mostly clothes, a small dagger; nothing much of interest. The second bag, the satchel, also contained clothing, but as she leafed through it, she felt something hard underneath the clothes. She tried to free it, but it seemed to be wrapped up or tangled somehow, so she pulled the whole bundle out of the bag. She shook the bundle of clothes and the object came tumbling out and landed on the ground with a thud. She was grateful the object was still in one piece. She hadn't even thought about the fact that it could be something fragile until she had already shaken it loose. But it wasn't, it was a book.

'Curious. A journal, perhaps?' She thought.

She picked it up and dusted it off. It was rather nondescript; bound in well-worn brown leather. She opened it up to somewhere in the middle and scanned the page. Her heart leapt into her throat. It was in…D'ni?

"Wha…How could…"

Words failed her. She was thrown into a complete tailspin; her mind in utter disbelieve. Her heart was racing and she began to hyperventilate. Frantically, she closed it, opened the front cover, flipped past the first protective page, and there before her was a linking panel with a clear view of the D'ni city, Ae'gura. She snapped the book shut and with shaking arms, clutched it to her chest, rocking back and forth. She couldn't begin to comprehend why Turgon would have the linking book in his possession. Tears filled her eyes as she was flooded with emotions - relief, sadness, fear, confusion. This was her chance to leave this world. This was her chance to go home. Home…How would she get home? The link would put her in the middle of the D'ni city, in a cavern deep underground. It was a long walk to the surface. What if the restoration teams had pulled out and sealed the cavern off? What if there was no way out? All these thoughts; these terrible thoughts flew through her mind. And Legolas…Just thinking his name put a knife through her heart. She thought she wanted to leave him. She knew it was for the best. And yet it tore her apart. He brought her such joy; showed her that not all males' hearts are blighted and corrupt; that there is goodness and honor to be found there. For her, he would offer the world if was in his power to give. With him, she could have the future she had always desired but never believed - all she had to do was reach out and take it but she couldn't see it. She was blinded by fear and by the unknown. It seemed so simple before; find the linking book, place her hand on the panel, and be instantaneously whisked away leaving Middle Earth as nothing more than a distant memory. But now that she actually had the book in her hands, she found it was not so easy, anymore.


	19. No Fate But What We Make

Disclaimer: All characters and places mentioned are the sole property of Cyan, Inc., J.R.R. Tolkien, or Peter Jackson/New Line Cinema. This is strictly for entertainment purposes and not based on fact. I do not profit from this story in any way.

* * *

**Chapter 17 - No Fate but What We Make**

Faramir trudged back to his quarters with an uneasy feeling in the pit of his stomach and his heart and mind burdened with guilt. The only thing that was positive in this whole situation was the fact that no one outside of those who knew Turgon questioned why he was found among the soldiers. All were focused on the attack itself. As long as people continued to do so, Faramir's secret would be safe, but the fear of the subject being brought to light was always in the back of his mind. To those who knew Turgon, Legolas firstly, Faramir's explanation was simply that he did not know the reason. It would become his mantra and he would take his secret to his grave. No one could know what he had done, not even Eowyn. It was a heavy price to pay for wanting nothing more than to help a friend.

----------

Legolas wanted to find Jordan and say goodbye before he left with the scouting party in the morning. If she had gotten word of the attack, there's only one place she would have gone - the Houses of Healing. He wandered around the rooms until finally he was approached by Astrid.

"Are you in need of assistance, master Elf?"

"I am looking for a woman named Jordan. She is a healer. I thought she might have come by here to help. Have you heard of her?"

"Jordan? Hmm." She thought for a moment. "Ahh, yes! She went that way, out into the garden." She replied, pointing to the doors.

"Thank you, good woman."

Legolas glanced around the garden, finally spotting Jordan sitting on a bench in a secluded corner. He walked over and sat down beside her.

"Hello. I thought I might find you here."

Her eyes were red-rimmed from crying and she tried to avoid looking him in the eyes; looking down at the ground instead so he would not notice.

"Turgon is dead."

"I know." He said softly.

Legolas noticed that she was clutching a square object to her chest.

"What is this?" He asked, tapping on it. She made eye contact with him briefly and wordlessly handed him the book. He ran his hand over the worn leather on the cover, turned it over, and looked at the blank spine. He set it on his lap and opened it to a random page in the middle. It was in D'ni. His heart sank.

"This is the linking book." He said bleakly, his voice barely above a whisper.

"Yes." She responded flatly.

He closed it but did not hand it back to her; he kept it in his lap.

"You said it was not in the archives. Where did you find it, then?"

"It was among Turgon's belongings."

"Turgon!? How did he come by _your_ book?"

"I don't know. I don't understand it. He did say he would keep his eye out for it, but…"

"He _knew_ about the linking book?"

"Yes, I told him. I told him about where I came from; I had to. What other explanation would I give for not knowing anything about Middle Earth?" Jordan gasped. "You don't think he was going to keep it do you? Maybe try it out for himself?"

"We will never know his intentions for certain but Turgon was an honorable man. I would like to believe he was delivering it to you."

She didn't know what was worse - the thought that Turgon could have possibly betrayed her or the possibility that he died while trying to help her.

Legolas turned his attention back to the linking book and opened the front cover. He flipped past the first blank page and there before his eyes was the linking panel she had described to him. It showed a city he could have never imagined - a city on an island of towering rock spires. Dwellings and tall buildings stood among the rocks; some carved right from the rock itself. He noticed parallels between the D'ni city and Minas Tirith. It was circular in shape because of the island it occupied; making use of the stone it was built into, and had many levels rising upward to a great height; except whereas Minas Tirith was light, the D'ni city was dark. It was almost a negative image of Minas Tirith. It was so life-like, he felt compelled to touch it. He brought his hand over the image; his fingertips hovering dangerously close to it. Jordan grabbed his wrist and jerked his hand away.

"Don't touch it!" She hissed.

"Does it work?"

"There is no distortion in the image so, yes, theoretically, the link is operational."

There was an awkward lull in the conversation as Jordan could not think of anything further to say and continued to stare at the ground.

"I understand Turgon's passing may be hard for you, but is there something else troubling you? You seem apprehensive," Legolas paused to consider his words and then continued tentatively, "as if there is something you wish to tell me, but are afraid to."

Jordan was silent for so long, Legolas knew he suspected correctly otherwise she would have spoken up immediately to the contrary. She finally spoke again, but her voice sounded strained and distant.

"It was my father's wish that I come here. He thought I would be safe among the Elves. I was grieving, confused; I wanted to respect his wishes. I knew the risks. I knew there was a chance I may never be able to return home, but now I know I can. I made a mistake, Legolas. Our cultures; our customs are just too different. I do not belong here."

She did not come right out and say she was leaving but Legolas knew that was her intent. He stood up and faced her, still holding the book, almost as if to keep it away from her. Determinedly, he said, "No. You _belong_ in Middle Earth. It is the will of the Valar. Long have I prayed that they would bestow their grace upon me; that I might find someone to share my life with. They have answered my pleas. It was not by accident that I found you in the forest. They foresaw your coming and guided me to you. It was our destiny to be together, fated by the Valar for only they are capable of such."

Tears stung her eyes threatening to spill over but she blinked them away.

"What are you saying Legolas? You wanted to get married and the Valar just decided that I'm the one?"

"Not quite. They simply brought us together and made it possible for us to develop a connection. What happens after that is in fate's hands, but finding a marriage partner is my foremost desire, yes."

"I don't believe in fate."

"It matters not."

"You make it sound like I have no choice in the matter."

"Of course you have a choice. We are all creatures of free will. But why would you turn your back on destiny? You do not have to be alone any longer. We could have a happy and fulfilling life together."

"But I am a mortal." She protested, holding her hands out as if it were written on her skin. "My coming and passing is no more than the blink of an eye in your immortal existence. We are too different, you and I. It wouldn't work. There are things about me that you wouldn't understand. There are just too many things wrongs to make it right."

Legolas was not about to be deterred. "I am immortal, yes, but therein lies our _only_ difference! We breathe, we feel, we cry, we laugh, we love - just as you!"

Jordan stood up to match his level. "You speak of destiny. What of _your_ destiny? If what you say is true, then these Valar have doomed you to an eternity of heartbreak and grief after I have passed on, and you're just going to accept that?"

Their argument was quickly becoming a yelling match as emotions ran high.

"I know very well what the outcome would be of such a union and, yes, I accept it!" He spat. "_This_ is what they deemed would be my fate and I do not question their actions!"

"Then the Valar are cruel to have resigned you to such a fate!" She spat back.

Her words silenced him and he stared at her in disbelief. He felt as if his very _feä_ had been ripped asunder. This was not how it was supposed to happen. Could it be that he made a grievous error in judgment and she was _not_ the one the Valar had chosen to send him? He had seen the signs to confirm it, but more so, he felt it in his heart. How could he have been so wrong? As a defense against the hurt and anger he felt, he became hardhearted and stubborn. If this was her choice, if she did not want him, then who was he to convince her otherwise?

'I have done my part.' He thought obstinately. 'I was willing to accept this gift that the Valar have offered most graciously, it is _she_ who refuses! I can do no more.' His expression changed to one of indifference. Very calmly he set the linking book back down on the bench.

"Then I imagine we will not see each other again. Tomorrow at dawn, I depart with the scouting party to hunt the Orcs. I wish you well and hope that you have a safe journey. Goodbye, Jordan." He said impassively and walked away.

He left her there in the garden and she wept. Legolas paused when he heard the sound of her weeping, as he was not quite so far off that his Elven ears couldn't hear, and it tore at him; but he could not go back. This was her doing. She was the one who played with his affections and then turned her back on him.

Legolas returned to his quarters and hastily poured some wine into a goblet; his shaking hands causing drops of the red liquid to spatter onto the stone floor. He set the goblet down and looked at his hands. Not once had he ever so much as flinched in battle but yet here he stood trembling and he prayed for Eru to guide him. It was not like him to have such emotional outbursts; first at the delegate's dinner and now tonight in the garden. He couldn't understand what was happening to him. Retiring to the balcony, he sat and looked out over the city, his anger and stubbornness dissolving into despair. She was leaving and there was nothing he could do to prevent it. He did not feel within the world but rather outside of it looking on; trapped in his own private world of suffering.

-----------

The culmination of events was too much for her and Jordan collapsed onto the stone bench, holding herself and rocking. It was the cold, uncaring manner in which he said goodbye that hurt her the most. But she deserved it. She had done to him exactly what had been done to her years ago - she deceived him; played him. The only difference was her offense was not intentional but it hurt Legolas just the same.

Jordan felt a hand on her shoulder from behind though she had not heard anyone approach.

"My child, why do you weep?" An ethereal female voice spoke to her. Something about it was vaguely familiar, like in a dream perhaps. The woman came around the bench and knelt in front of her. Jordan raised her head and looked into the face of one of the most beautiful beings she had ever seen. She wore a dark grey velvet cloak. The hood loosely covered her head and ringlets of shimmering white-blond hair spilled out from either side, cascading to her waist. She had eyes of silver rimmed with long, dark lashes and her face shone like the sun.

"Who are you?" Jordan asked in a small, sob-wracked voice. She felt vulnerable and child-like in the presence of this stranger, but yet at the same time, oddly comforted.

She took off her hood revealing the rest of her platinum hair.

"I am called Estë."

Estë picked up the book sitting on the bench next to Jordan and set it aside. There was a brief flash of white light from Estë's hand when she touched the book, but Jordan was so distraught, she took no notice. She sat down next to Jordan, put her arm around her and pulled her close like a mother would a child. In Jordan's world, it would have been practically unheard of for a stranger to reach out to someone on such a physical level but for some reason Jordan did not think it strange. It just felt natural to take comfort in this woman's embrace.

Estë held her for a long time and waited patiently for her crying to subside. Jordan finally sat up, sniffed, and wiped her eyes.

"Now tell me what has happened to cause an outpouring such as this."

Estë's voice had a musical sound to it, and no matter what she said, her tone was always soft and gentle.

Jordan hesitated; feeling somewhat self-conscious of bearing her faults to this stranger.

"I hurt someone I care about."

"I see." Estë said. "If you care about them, why did you hurt them?"

"I didn't want to. It's…well, it's complicated. I wanted to prevent him from making a mistake." She sniffed miserably.

Estë produced a handkerchief of fine white cloth with silver stitching around the edges from inside her cloak and handed it to Jordan so she could dry her eyes.

"Affairs of the heart often are. What sort of mistake?"

"Falling in love with me. He believes that we are destined by some divine designation to be together and it's blinding him from the truth."

"What truth is that?"

"That a relationship between us is just…just…not possible!" She struggled to find the right words. We are too different. Not to mention there are things about me, things in my past that if he knew, he would not want me anyway. So, I am leaving. I am going back to my…uh, homeland. He has no choice now but to find someone else; someone more like himself. I am giving him a chance for a happier life. One day he will look back and realize that it was for the best." She ended sadly.

"You do not sound very convincing. I do not believe that is what you really want."

Jordan began to sob again and covered her face with her hands. "No, it's not, but it does not matter. That's the way it has to be. I just want him to be happy."

"And what of your own happiness?"

Jordan sniffed and wiped her eyes with the handkerchief. "I don't know. It doesn't seem to matter much anymore." She said miserably.

"It _seems_ a noble sacrifice, does it not? To put others before yourself? But what if, perchance, it _is_ destined as this person you speak of says? If you are his true soul mate and he yours, neither of you will find satisfaction with another and you will walk the ages desolate and alone. It is much to risk."

"I don't believe in destiny." She replied sourly.

Estë laughed softly. "But my child, destiny believes in _you_." She touched the tip of Jordan's nose gently. "You are stronger than you realize; more capable than you know. You were meant to become something greater than you are now. You still have a part to play in this story to which the ending has not yet been written. Give of yourself and take that which is given to you and where you were once half, you will become whole."

"I don't understand."

"In time, young one…you will." Estë stood up and faced Jordan. "I regret that my time here is very short. I must go now, but remember this - Of all the gifts bestowed upon the Firstborn, the greatest was the ability to love transcending all boundaries. Trust in that." She placed a kiss on the top of Jordan's head and left in the same direction she had come. "Estë, wait!" She called out. "Who are the…" She quickly stood up and turned around to catch her before she left. "…Firstborn?"

Her last word lingered on the still air. There was no one to hear it. Estë was gone. Jordan walked a few steps and looked around the garden. There was no sign of the lady who came to offer comfort and strange words of wisdom.

_Odd. Where could she have gone so quickly? _

'The firstborn' she repeated. Was Estë referring to her? Then she vaguely remembered Legolas referring to the Elves as the firstborn. Did Estë know Legolas was an Elf? How could she possibly know that? She hadn't even given her his name. The whole encounter left her a bit disconcerted. What strange things for someone to say.

Jordan sat back down again on the stone bench, picked up the linking book, and set it on her lap. Fragments of Estë's speech echoed in her head. _What if it is destined…If you are his true soul mate…You still have a part to play…Love transcending all boundaries…You will become whole. _Whole? Never did she feel so divided. Her decision would affect not only her future, but Legolas' as well and she was so afraid of making the wrong one. One touch on the linking panel would seal their fates for better or for worse. There was no turning back. She knew the reasons she _should_ leave and if that was her decision, she should do it now. But what if by some small chance - and she couldn't believe she was considering this - Estë was right? What if by leaving she took with her all chance of happiness for Legolas…and herself? She opened the book to look at the linking panel while she weighed her options. To her utter shock, the image was now heavily distorted with static. The link somehow had been broken.

"No!" She cried.

She slammed the book shut and shook it, although she didn't know how it would help. She opened it back up and the result was the same - the image was distorted. She closed her eyes and took a few shaky breaths. She was certain the link had been stable earlier this evening. She had watched Legolas as he handled the book. He certainly had done nothing to destroy the link. Had fate really intervened or was this just an odd coincidence?

Jordan began to tremble all over and her heart was racing. She gasped for air, unable to catch her breath; panic was setting in. Even after she failed to find the book in the archives, she still had hope that it might turn up elsewhere, but now she knew, with absolute certainty, that there would be no going back - ever. She would have to accept that Middle Earth was her home now. She was so tired and with her stress level pushed to its limit, she was having a hard time focusing her thoughts. She had always firmly believed that her destiny was her own; that her path in life was determined by the choices she made, not by some unseen force she had no control over, but the evidence that this was no mere coincidence was too compelling. The more she thought about it, the more plausible it seemed that someone or some_thing_ orchestrated these events preventing her from leaving, and if that was true, it meant that she had been wrong. She felt her grip on those beliefs, the very foundation on which she built her life, slipping away. She had never felt so utterly helpless and so unsure of herself.

She sat in the garden for a long time and thought about the last few years of her life, most of which were spent unhappy. There had to be something she was doing wrong. Her failed relationship with Christian had really affected her and afterwards she vowed never to let anyone hurt her again. The only way to ensure that was controlling her environment and the people in it. She started out small; being a little more particular about the choices she made; being somewhat cautious about people she associated with. To Jordan, it was smart and it made sense, but she let it consume her life. She was always one step ahead; analyzing the situation, speculating people's intentions. If she saw a situation where her control could be threatened, she avoided it. If she thought someone's actions might hurt her, intentionally or not, she pushed them away. The few people she did let into her life, she treated as if they needed saving from themselves. She felt she had to protect them from getting hurt or making a mistake with their life, so that what had been done to her did not happen to them. It was a heavy burden feeling responsible for other's lives, but if she did nothing, she felt somehow that it would seem like didn't care enough about them. Her intentions were good, but underneath, it was just another form of control and eventually people tired of it and faded from her life. The only thing she really succeeded in doing was creating a carefully constructed world to which she was a prisoner of, and in time, would become its only inhabitant because eventually she would have to push _everyone _away.

It was _her_ that had been blinded. She finally realized that whether by fate or by chance, there were many things in life that could not be controlled. _People_ could not be controlled - not their actions or thoughts, not even their decisions. It had been foolish of her to think that they could. She had tried to make Legolas' decision for him because she could not stand to know that he would suffer greatly as a result of that decision. But it was not up to her to protect him. He was not a child that needed guidance. He was a rational, intelligent being with more than two millennia worth of life experience and he was by no means blind to any situation. Stubborn and deeply rooted in his convictions, perhaps, but not blind.

Then she did something she never thought she would be able to do - she let go. Let go of the white-knuckled grip on her life, the need to control even that which was beyond her control, she let go of the fear of being hurt - and it was such a relief. No longer did she have to keep a constant vigil on her life or feel like she had failed when something she thought she could control went wrong. No longer did she feel the burden of trying to change or fix people. Their mistakes could be their own and it did not mean that she didn't care about them. She could still worry about them and feel badly when they were hurt, but she didn't have to feel responsible for the decisions they made.

The façade she had created finally came crashing down and she saw the world with new eyes. She knew Legolas cared for her and she cared for him as well. She would tell him _everything_ about her past; lay it all out on the table. If Legolas was willing to accept her and it was his desire to sacrifice his happiness for the remainder of eternity so that they may be together, then so be it, but she needed to talk to him right away. The last words they spoke to each other were out of anger. She couldn't let him leave without telling him how she felt and how sorry she was for hurting him and pushing him away. What if something happened to him and she never got the chance? She would search the city for him; wake him up if he was sleeping, whatever she had to do.

Physically and mentally exhausted, Jordan trudged back to her quarters through the quiet, empty streets. It was a difficult walk though it wasn't very far. She had to force herself to keep moving. Once inside, she tossed the now useless linking book on the seat of the chair. She stopped beside the bed, her heavy eyelids slowly lowering, practically falling asleep on her feet.

'I'm so tired…so tired…Maybe I'll just rest for a bit. Just for a little. Then I will go find Legolas.' She thought.

She collapsed onto the bed and fell asleep, still fully clothed, and clutching the white handkerchief Estë had given her.

----------

From the balcony, Legolas heard someone entering Jordan's quarters. He listened closely. The sound of Jordan's footsteps was unmistakable. What was she still doing here? Had she decided not to leave? A part of him wanted to rush in and find out if she had changed her mind. How foolish would he feel, though, only to discover she had simply delayed her journey until tomorrow? And so, he held back.

He waited until he heard the change in her breathing, ensuring she was deep in sleep, and then silently slipped into her room to check on her. She was lying face down on the bed on top of the coverlet still in her gown and shoes. He could not help but take pity on her as distraught as she must have been to lay herself down in such a manner. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath; overwhelmed by a sense of profound sadness. Why was this so difficult? Why couldn't he just let her go? That was what she wanted, right? It was because he knew he could not endure a life without her. It was because he loved Jordan with all of his heart. As he watched her sleeping, the meaning of Aragorn's words rang true and he knew; from the moment he first looked upon her until now, never did there exist a time when he had not.

To have gained this new insight still was of no comfort to him. It changed nothing. He was leaving in the morning and it could be weeks before he returned to the city. She could be long gone by then. He could only hope that by some miracle, she would wait until he returned.

He slipped her shoes off and covered her gently with the throw that lay at the foot of the bed. Her head was turned to the side; hair tumbling over her face. He brushed the hair aside and carefully tucked the strands behind her ear. It was then he noticed the piece of cloth she clutched in her hand. It struck his curiosity so he extracted it delicately from her fingers to take a closer look. The fabric looked and felt like the finest quality of linen and there was silver stitching along the edges. He ran his finger over the stitching. He was astonished to discover it was sewn not with thread but mithril filament. To his knowledge, neither the elves nor the dwarves possessed the capability to produce this fine of strand. He took the cloth back to his quarters to study it in the light. The mithril filament was soft and pliable like cloth thread; it did not possess the properties of a metal - retaining the position it was bent into. The candlelight reflected off the mithril like it would fine silver. As he studied the embroidery, he started to see that it was not just decorative in nature; it formed letters. There were words that ran the entire length of the edges. It looked like a form of Elvish but was neither identifiable as Quenya nor Sindarin and upon further examination, Legolas found he could interpret none of the words.

If given the chance, he would inquire about its origins, but for now, he went back to her quarters, and carefully tucked the cloth back into her hand. She stirred slightly at his touch but did not awaken. He watched her for a while longer; he couldn't bear to leave.

"I love you, Jordan." He whispered softly to her. It was the first time he had ever uttered those words to anyone other than a member of his family.

He replayed their argument over and over in his head and realized what a fool he had been. He had spoke of fate, destiny, but not of love. How could he expect her to agree to a union without love? What he offered sounded more like a business arrangement than a romance. But how could he speak of that which he did not know? Maybe love would have made all the difference but it was too late now. He reached out his hand tentatively, wanting to touch her but did not dare to disturb her sleep and alert her to his presence. Instead, he made the motion of caressing her cheek, slow and lingering, his hand hovering over her skin but not touching.

Legolas knew the hour was late. He needed to get some rest before setting out with the scouting party.

"Goodbye, my love." He whispered and reluctantly returned to his quarters by way of the balcony. He stripped off his travel-worn clothing, climbed into bed, and drifted off to sleep hoping to dream of happier times.

----------

Just before dawn, Faramir slipped out of bed quietly so as not to wake Eowyn. Try as he might, she woke anyway. He heard her soft voice from their bed.

"Is it time for you to depart already? The night is not yet over."

"It is nearly dawn. I am sorry my love, I tried not to wake you."

Faramir came and sat down on the edge of the bed.

"I was already awake, so restless was your sleeping." Eowyn said.

He picked up her hand and kissed it but said nothing. Eowyn sat up and rubbed his back.

"Is there something troubling you, Faramir?"

He looked at her and smiled. "No, my love. There is nothing troubling me." He said quietly. He did his best to hide the truth but his eyes belied his words.

"Are you worried about the scouting mission?"

"Not at all. We will be fine." He answered and decidedly changed the subject. "What about you? Are you still feeling ill?"

"I am better now, I think. We will see as the day wears on."

His expression turned serious. "I want you to go see the healers right away if you feel ill again. Promise me you will?"

"I promise. I am certain all will be well. Do not worry. Just focus on your duty and come home."

Faramir hugged her and pressed his lips to her forehead, kissing it gently.

"For you, my love, I will do anything. Is it safe to share our joyous news yet?"

Eowyn grinned. "You just cannot wait to tell someone, can you?"

"I am going to be a father!" He jumped up, flinging his arms out wide. "I want the entire city to know!"

She laughed at his antics. "I think we should keep it to ourselves a little longer. It is still early on."

"Alright." He said. He lifted her up, wrapped his arms around her, and pressed his forehead to hers. "I must go. They will be waiting for me."

Sighing, she said, "Promise _me_ you will come back safely."

"I promise."

Faramir strapped his sword to his belt, gathered up his effects, and hurried out the door.

----------

Mordren, Eomer, Legolas, and Firindor all waited at the Great Gate anxiously for the arrival of Faramir, so they could be on their way. Firindor paced nervously. He was the final addition to the scouting party as he knew the location of the attack firsthand. Eomer sat on the ground, with his back resting against the wall, Mordren rechecked his supplies, and Legolas simply stood at attention, waiting, trying to keep his mind focused on the task at hand. Since their main objective was only to track the Orcs, not engage them in battle, they would set out on foot. It would take them longer to cover the distance, but by using stealth and cunning, there stood a better chance of success. The clamor of horses would only alert the enemy. They were expecting to find a sizeable army of Orcs, however, if they came across a small assemblage, they had leave to kill.

Faramir finally arrived abound with nervous energy, eager to get underway.

"You are late." Mordren said to Faramir disapprovingly.

"A minor delay - forgive me."

Mordren dismissed it and addressed the group now gathered around him.

"Our starting point will be where the attack took place. Hopefully, from there we can pick up their trail. I hope you all packed lightly. We must travel quickly if we hope to catch up with them and no one can afford to be burdened with extra weight." He reached into a sack and tossed each person a bundle wrapped in cloth and tied with twine. "King Elessar has seen fit to provide us with some rations. Use them sparingly. We may find sustenance in the wilderness as elusive as the Orcs."

Mordren signaled to the guards who then parted the gates just a sliver, and the scouting party went forth from the city.


	20. Love Lies Bleeding

The chapter that almost never was…

A few weeks ago, my hard drive suffered a massive cerebral hemorrhage and died. Now I know what you're thinking: ELoI, of _course_ you backed up your files, right? Heh, heh, ah, no – which is about as smart as a coal miner not having life insurance. Previous chapters posted on my website are stored on the host's server, but my current chapter – all 11,000 and some words – subsequently split into two chapters but still largely incomplete, was stored only on my hard drive. Doh!

But fortune smiled down on me because about two days prior, I received an ominous warning – a serious error which I could not fix. In desperation, I took it to be repaired. They performed C.P.R. (computer processor resuscitation) and brought it back to life. Narrowly escaping disaster, I immediately bought a little zip drive. Although I thought I had plenty of time to get around to backing up my files, I just couldn't resist my new little gadget and plugged it in to see how it worked. I quickly dumped the Love's Redemption file and my pictures on to it and rejoiced in my new-found techno-geekdom. Unfortunately, I grossly underestimated the amount of space I needed and that's all that would fit.

I shut the computer down that night and in the morning, I discovered it had died peacefully in its sleep. Story and pictures saved! Everything else? Reduced to useless bits of 0s and 1s. Hundreds of dollars worth of music – lost. Documents, financial information, and software – lost. E-mail addressed, saved emails, and my connection to the world – lost. It was then I realized that my life was so completely integrated into my computer, I could possibly qualify as a Borg. With my fiber optic umbilical cord now severed, I didn't know what to do with myself and I wandered around the house like a cow left out to pasture. After about a week, I picked up my beloved computer from the repair shop complete with a shiny, new…_empty_ hard drive. I got to work right away reloading and downloading my various software programs and am happy to report that I received full cooperation from Wal-Mart and iTunes in the restoration effort of my music although I suspect secretly they are snickering at my idiocy.

Unfortunately, the stress and time spend rebuilding the padded walls of cyberspace around me completely wiped out any creativity I may have had previously (although that too is questionable). But finally, here it is in all of its mediocre glory for your reading enjoyment – chapter 18. All things told, my story does have a happy ending but I learned a hard lesson about data management and recovery: There are some things money can't buy. For everything else, there's MasterCard.

New hard drive including labor: 230.00

Replacing the fried video card: 79.99

Zip drive: 24.99

Not having to write this chapter over again: Priceless

* * *

**Chapter 18 - Love Lies Bleeding**

When Jordan woke, the sun having already risen, was streaming into her quarters. Still groggy from sleep, she blinked a few times and shielded her eyes from the sun with her hand. Suddenly, she panicked realizing it was morning and she had overslept.

"No, no, no!" She shrieked.

She had only meant to rest for an hour or so! Maybe there was a chance Legolas hadn't left yet. She ran out the door not caring if she was still in her sleeping gown and pounded on his door furiously.

"Legolas!" She cried. "If you're there, open the door, _please_! I need to talk to you! Legolas!"

From inside her quarters, Eowyn heard someone yelling and pounding, so she stepped out into the corridor to see what the matter was. She saw Jordan in a frenzy, standing in front of Legolas' door. Apparently, she did not know he had already gone.

"Legolas is not there, Jordan. The scouting party left at dawn." Eowyn informed her.

Jordan covered her face with her hands. "I'm too late." She wailed. "What if something happens to him?"

"Nothing is going to happen to Legolas. What in blazes are you talking about?" Eowyn said, completely confused by Jordan's strange behavior.

"I know you are probably still angry with me, but if you would come in, I can explain."

Jordan looked so forlorn, Eowyn put her own issue with the woman aside and followed her into her quarters. Besides, her curiosity was too great.

"Now what did you mean out in the corridor? What are you too late for?" Eowyn said as she walked over to the chair to sit down.

"To tell Legolas that I haven't left Middle-earth; to tell him how I feel."

"Left Middle-earth? Wait, you found the linking book?"

"Yes, you're about to sit on it."

Eowyn turned around to see the small, leather-bound book lying on the seat. She picked it up cautiously, as if it were somehow dangerous, and quickly handed it to Jordan before she finally sat down.

"You said it was not in the archives. Where then did you find it?"

"It was among Turgon's belongings."

"Turgon? Why would Turgon have it? Where did _he_ find it?"

"No one knows and now no one ever will. It is a secret he has taken to his grave."

"So, you told Legolas that you have the linking book and were going to use it to return home. What did he say to that?" Eowyn asked, fully knowing Legolas would not have taken it very well.

Jordan covered her face with her hands and shook her head as she sat down on the edge of the bed.

"Oh Eowyn, it was awful. We got into a horrible argument. He tried to convince me to stay. He said he thought we were destined by the Valar to be together, but I didn't believe him. I wouldn't listen. In my stubbornness, I still thought what I was doing was for the best."

Jordan's last sentence struck a chord with Eowyn. She was reminded of Aragorn and how, despite his love for Arwen, he tried to push her away, hoping she would choose to be counted among the Elves and sail to Valinor once her reason for remaining in Middle-earth was gone. However, Jordan and Legolas' situation was somewhat different. Legolas would not have to surrender his immortality. He could still take a ship into the west, provided there were any left to take. But until her death, he would be bound to her side and to Middle-earth and afterward, he would spend the rest of his life mourning his love.

"I think I finally understand now. You were trying to let him go; to save him from suffering after you pass on. Is that the way of it?"

"That is part of it. I've had a pretty difficult time dealing with the fact that Legolas is immortal and that should we decide to marry one day, he will suffer for the rest of eternity after I am gone. I thought how could he possibly bear that? It's unfathomable! A human at least would be given reprieve by their own passing, but it is not so for him. I felt selfish for wanting something that would cause him pain. I thought by leaving, I could give him a chance for a happier life. I thought maybe he would find another Elf to share his life with."

"But now you have had a change of heart?"

"Well, yes and no." Jordan told Eowyn about the appearance of Estë and her mystical advice. "After she disappeared, I sat there contemplating the situation. I didn't know what to do. I was so torn. If I stayed, there was a chance we could be happy, but at what price? If I left, he may be hurt for a while, but perhaps he would find true happiness with one who he could spend eternity with. Both Legolas and Estë spoke of fate. Now, I have never been one to put much stock in fate or destiny but what happened next made me wonder if maybe I was wrong. I opened the linking book while considering my options and discovered that the link was broken. Earlier that evening, when I showed it to Legolas, it was working, but it had become unstable."

"Whether by fate or chance, I knew then, with absolute certainty, there would be no going back and I panicked. I thought that to remain in Middle-earth meant I would have to deny what my heart truly wanted and that was to be with Legolas. But I realized that it was not only our differences and the difficulties we faced that kept me apart from him, it was my own fears. I was afraid of being hurt; I was afraid of hurting others by the choices I made. I have never met anyone like Legolas before. He is brave and honorable and fearless. Without hesitation or concern for his own well-being, was willing to trade an _eternity_ of happiness for only just a moment to be with me, and what was I willing to risk for him? Nothing!" She spat. "I was a coward; afraid to face an uncertain future; unable to accept that someone would make such a sacrifice for me. Instead of facing my fears, I chose to run away. As I sat thinking about the last few years of my life, I finally came to understand that whether in my world or his, if I did _not_ face my fears, I would never find happiness – so that is what I intended to do. I decided now was the time before I lost Legolas for good. It was a very difficult and frightening decision for me, but the more I embraced the idea, I felt freed, not trapped. Middle-earth is my home now, but that does not mean I have to live in it alone. I wanted to go to him and tell him how sorry I was for hurting him, that I had made a mistake, and beg of his forgiveness but I was so exhausted, I fell asleep." Jordan hung her head. "I'm so afraid something will happen to him and I'll never have the chance. I feel terrible that the last words we spoke to each other were in anger."

"I know this is hard for you to understand but here, battle has been a part of life for many years. I worry for Faramir as well, but both he and Legolas are well equipped in skill and strength. Legolas is an Elven warrior. He will return."

"I can only hope you are right."

Eowyn paused for a moment, then said, "I want to apologize for getting angry with you that day in the archives. I thought you were simply acting foolish and with disregard for Legolas' feelings. I did not realize just how difficult and complex a pairing between an Elf and a mortal really was. Forgive me. I misjudged you."

"Thank you. I appreciate that."

"May I see the linking book? With all this talk about it, I am quite curious."

"Sure, go ahead." Jordan said and handed the book to her.

Eowyn turned it this way and that, studying the worn leather covering. It was so strange to think this material was not from her world.

"Where is the, um, link…linking…" Eowyn began, unable to recall the correct term.

"The linking panel? In the front of the book."

Eowyn opened the front cover to a blank page and looked at Jordan questioningly.

"Turn the page." Jordan said. "That's actually a protective page so you do not touch the linking panel inadvertently, but you don't have to worry about that anymore."

Eowyn turned the page and finally saw the linking panel for herself. She couldn't believe that _this_ could whisk someone off to a different world.

"What is this place?" She asked pointing to the linking panel; the tip of her finger almost touching the page.

"Oh, it's…" Jordan glanced down at the book and froze. "Uh…Eowyn, don't touch it."

Jordan's strange tone frightened her and she immediately threw the book away from her and it landed on the floor with a dull thud.

"I meant the page, not the book."

"Oh."

Jordan snatched it up and turned to the linking panel. It was clear. There was no distortion.

"What is wrong?"

"The linking panel…it is working again."

Eowyn peered at it cautiously. Neither woman spoke as they each stared at the linking panel.

Jordan was utterly confused. Had she imagined the whole thing? Had Estë been there at all?

'Wait! The handkerchief!' Jordan thought. 'I was holding it when I fell asleep.'

Eowyn watched in bewilderment as Jordan rushed over to the bed and started lifting the pillows up and tossing them aside.

"What are you _doing_?" Eowyn asked.

There it was underneath one of the pillows. Jordan clutched it to her chest, breathing a sigh of relief.

"I don't know how the linking panel is working again. I swear it was broken last night. So, I was afraid I had imagined the whole thing, but this handkerchief is proof. She was there. She gave it to me."

"May I see it?"

Jordan handed her the handkerchief and asked, "Do you know of anyone named Estë in the city here? I want to find her and at least offer to return it. It looks special, like an heirloom or something."

Eowyn shook her head as she inspected the cloth. "I am not familiar with many of the city folk, but even so, I have never heard of a woman called such." Eowyn said and handed the handkerchief back to Jordan who tucked it in her sleeve for safe keeping.

Neither one spoke for a while, each thinking their own thoughts.

"Now that the linking panel is working, what are you going to do?" Eowyn asked finally.

Jordan reflected on it for a moment and then shook her head.

"I know I have no possessions. I have no gold or jewels. I am not royalty nor do I stand to inherit anything of value. The only thing I have to offer Legolas is my love. If he will not accept it, the most I will suffer is a broken heart, the prospect of which terrifies me, but at least then I can go on knowing I faced my fears. This," Jordan said, motioning to the book, "changes nothing. I want to be with Legolas, if he will have me. I cannot imagine going back now."

"Why would Legolas _not_ accept your love? When he spoke about a union between the two of you, he spoke of _marriage_. That is no trifling statement. Elves take the prospect of marriage very seriously."

"There is something in my past that may change the way he feels about me."

"Let the past remain as such. Whatever it was, it occurred in your old life. Think of this as a rebirth. You have a new life now, here in Middle-earth."

"No, I can't. Legolas must know. I cannot keep this from him."

"Will you speak of it to me? Perhaps I can help."

Jordan sighed heavily. "Remember when we first arrived in the city and there was the matter of the room mix up?"

"Yes, I remember."

"Well, as you know, this room only has one bed. I offered to share it with Legolas so that he would not have to sleep on the floor or in the chair, but he declined, saying that to share a bed with a female before marriage was forbidden. I realized if that was the custom of his people, then he has never had, um…he has never bedded anyone before."

"Why should that matter?"

"Because _I_ have! Several years ago, I was in love with a man named Christian. I worked with him at the hospital. We were together for a couple of years. I guess here you would call it 'courting'." Jordan paused a moment. "It's very common thing to do outside of the bounds of marriage in _my_ world."

Eowyn's expression became one of sympathy as she was beginning to understand Jordan's dilemma. "Oh Jordan, you think Legolas will not want you because of it."

"Yes."

Jordan explained how, in the time period of her world that best matched Middle Earth's, any bride of royalty was expected to be pure, so she assumed it would be the same here. Legolas was a prince. She feared that by law he would have to deny her even though he cared about her or worse that he would simply turn his back on her.

"I was too afraid to tell him. I decided the best thing to do was just leave before either of us became too attached. But I'm not going to be afraid anymore. I am going to tell him everything even if it means that I might lose him."

"You keep much to yourself and worry needlessly. Had you talked to someone sooner, you would have learned that this is not so. There is no law that dictates a certain standing of one's betrothed. What of the woman whose husband is killed in battle? If she desired to marry again, would she not be in the same situation? Although they are immortal, Elves _can_ be killed in battle, and it is not forbidden for one to remarry. Most simply choose not to because they share such a strong bond with their spouse, even in death. I cannot say with absolute certainty how Legolas would feel about it, but he is wise enough to understand the differences between your world and ours. I do not think that he would shun you."

Jordan looked at Eowyn with tears in her eyes. "You don't?"

"No."

She closed her eyes and exhaled completely. "Oh, you don't know how relieved I am to hear that."

It was such an emotional release to feel the burden of her worries lifted and the tears streamed freely down her face.

"There now, there is no need to cry. It will be alright."

Eowyn went over to her and hugged her. Jordan let out an embarrassed laugh through her tears.

"I'm sorry. I hate crying and I seem to do it so often lately." She said with a sniff. She pulled out the handkerchief from Estë that she had tucked in her sleeve and wiped her eyes. "Thank you, Eowyn"

"What ever came to pass between you and this man, Christian?"

"Um…" Her voice wavered. "I found out he had been sleeping with another woman behind my back."

Eowyn looked somewhat confused, so Jordan tried to think of some other way to rephrase it. "Ah, you know. He bedded her too, while he was courting me."

"Oh. I see."

"She ended up carrying his child, so he left me to marry her."

She left out some of the finer details which would only confuse Eowyn - How Christian owned the estate they shared and that he insisted she move out immediately. His new fiancée Victoria - socialite and heiress to a prominent and powerful business corporation - would soon be moving in. Amidst her heartbreak, Jordan had to scramble to find another place to live. To maintain his reputation, Christian fabricated a lie and told everyone they knew that he had broke it off with Jordan long before he got together with Victoria and that Jordan was entirely aware of their relationship. He made himself out to be a martyr and said at first he took pity on her. He said she was still paying off her student loans for medical school, which was true, but he also said she had maxed out her credit cards, was deeply in debt, and had started drinking again which was a complete lie and said to make her look irresponsible and undermine her credibility. He explained that she was struggling to find an affordable apartment, so he offered to let her stay on at the estate with him and Victoria until she could get back on her feet, which Jordan accepted, but that she treated Victoria terribly and threatened to find a way to blackmail them for money to pay off her debt. They put up with her erratic behavior for a while but it was putting too much stress on Victoria and the baby, so they forced her to leave. Although Jordan's father was a respected archeologist in his field, they lived a rather modest life. Christian was rich; his family was powerful. He traveled in the same circles as did the social elite, politicians, prominent businessmen and just the plain filthy rich. Women wanted him; men wanted to _be_ him. Everyone wanted to be liked by him, so they believed his story.

"I am so sorry, Jordan. Men can be cruel sometimes…It is no less true here in Middle Earth."

"Well, at least now I can look back and know that some good came out of it."

"What is that?"

"It set me on the path that led to Legolas."

"What are you going to do with that?" Eowyn asked motioning to the book still in her hand.

Jordan walked over to the sideboard. "I'm going to put it away until Legolas returns," she said shoving it in a drawer, "and then together we will burn it."

When she turned around, all the color was gone from Eowyn's face and it appeared she was about to wretch.

"Are you alright?" Jordan asked, alarmed.

Eowyn put a hand over her stomach. Beads of sweat broke out on her forehead.

"I…"

"Oh no!"

Jordan grabbed her hand and pulled her into the bathing chamber. She wretched in the wash basin what little was in her stomach while Jordan held her long hair back. When she was finished, Jordan wet a square of cloth with some water from a pitcher and gave it Eowyn to cool her face.

"Are you alright? Here come sit down." She said, helping her to the chair.

"I am better now, thank you." Eowyn said hoarsely.

"Do you have any chills or feel feverish?"

"No. I feel fine otherwise."

This might seem a little strange but…" Jordan touched her lips lightly to Eowyn's forehead. It was cool.

"What was that for?" She asked, somewhat bemused.

"I can tell if you have a fever by how warm your forehead feels to my lips. You don't. Have you been coughing?"

"No, nothing like that. I am sure I just need to eat." She said evasively.

"Eowyn, no one throws up because they haven't eaten. Is this the first time this has happened?"

"No. I have experienced this a couple times before, mostly in the morning."

Jordan paused, thinking. "Could you be with child?"

Eowyn's eyes grew wide at the suggestion.

"You are, aren't you!"

"How did you know?"

"I'm a doctor, remember? You have classic morning sickness symptoms. Do you know how far along you are?"

"I have missed two moon cycles."

Jordan counted on her fingers. "So…that would put you at about twelve weeks give or take a few weeks." She squealed and hugged Eowyn. "Congratulations."

Eowyn smiled. "Thank you."

"Come on, we should get you some food. You'll feel better."

"Alright, but Jordan?"

"Yeah?"

"Faramir and I are not quite ready to share this news, so please do not tell anyone yet."

"No, of course not. It is not my business to tell anyway."

--

The first leg of the scouting party's journey was already set: through the northern gate of the Rammas Echor, skirting past the tip of the Grey Wood, and taking the ancient road through the Stonewain Valley that lay between the northern side of the White Mountains and the southern edge of the Druadan Forest to the foot of the third beacon-hill, Nardol; a rocky, barren outcropping of the mountains. Then, just beyond where the men quarried rock long ago, they would climb out of the valley and continue on down the grassy slopes of the mountains that lay between the Druadan Forest and the Firien Wood. In a protective grove of linden and old oak is where the attack occurred. From there, they could only rely on their senses and skill for tracking foul beasts.

As they entered the narrow mouth of the Stonewain Valley, the scouting party formed a single line, keeping five or six paces between each person. Mordren led while Legolas served as rear guard; his keen eyes and ears put to good use should an attack come from behind, for the valley was like a steep ravine and there were no exits but forward and back. The road through was rough and strewn with rock though fortunately not overgrown with vegetation, for very little sunlight touched its floor; hindered by the towering forested hills with its tangled mass of thickets on one side and the rise of the mountains on the other. It was only at certain times when the sun was right in the sky that it blazed through the hidden gap. The day was exceptionally warm for the season, even in the shade of the valley walls, and despite their grim task, the mood was light. The group talked and joked amongst themselves quietly to pass the time.

Eomer glanced back and saw that Legolas had fallen back a bit from the rest of the group. He slowed his pace and let the others pass, waiting for Legolas to catch up to him, so they could speak in private.

"What say you, Eomer? It is a fine day, is it not?" Legolas asked as he approached the man.

"It is at that. Let's just hope the weather holds out."

They walked side-by-side for a time until Legolas asked, "Something on your mind, Eomer?"

Eomer leaned in a bit and said quietly, "It would bode ill for the success of our mission if there is discord among its members, so if you take issue with me, let us rectify it now."

Legolas furrowed his brows. "I have no quarrel with you. Of what do you speak?"

"The night of the delegate's dinner…the Lady Jordan?" He reminded him. "I only wished to get to know her. I did not realize at the time you like fancied her. I hope you hold no ill will against me."

"No oath have we pledged to one another. She is free to keep company with whom she pleases."

"Yes, well, I understand it caused strife between you and for that I am sorry. I did not mean to interfere."

"Eowyn told you."

"Told? No. Rebuked would be a better word."

"Well, you need not worry. I accept your apology, though none was required; the fault was my own."

"You have my thanks." Eomer said with a nod. He walked ahead a few paces and then stopped and glanced back at Legolas. "If it is any consolation, she spoke about _you_ the entire time." Eomer grinned and trotted off to resume his place in line.

'It would have been that, but it does not matter now.' Legolas thought bitterly.

--

The scouting party was making good time and about midday, Mordren decided it would be permissible to take a short rest. They shrugged off their packs and unburdened themselves of their excess weapons, laying them out on the ground and took the opportunity to stretch their muscles and quench their thirst.

Eomer, noticing the implements tied to Mordren's pack, quipped, "Come now, what use have we for a spade? Do we plan to tend to the land as well as Orcs?"

"A crude tool for a cruder purpose, not to bring forth life from the ground but to inter to it - it is our charge to bury the dead. Too good of men they were to be left as carrion."

Eomer said no more.

At last, the old road took a slight northerly turn skirting around a high barren ridge extending out from the White Mountains that made up the third beacon-hill, Nardol. The sun here was more abundant as the edge of the Druadan Forest turned away from the valley and above them now only lay the grassy slopes of the of the mountain.

"How much farther, Firindor?" Mordren asked.

He looked up, judging the position of the sun in the sky, squinting his eyes against its brilliance. "We should reach there well before sundown."

--

After breakfast, Eowyn went to lie down, so Jordan decided she would stop by the Houses of Healing and check on the injured soldiers. As she wandered through the main room, she did not see anyone about at first. As well, she noticed there were fewer soldiers lying in the beds; by about half. She panicked, thinking they had died sometime in the night.

"Astrid!" She yelled, but there was no answer. "Astrid!" She yelled again, looking around wildly.

Mariwen came out from behind a curtained-off alcove wiping her hands off on her apron. "Shh! Not only will you disturb the sick, you will wake the dead!" She said in a harsh whisper. "Astrid is not here. What is it? What is wrong?"

"Oh, Mariwen, thank goodness!" Jordan said rushing over to the young woman. "Where are all the rest of the men?"

"They have been moved to the recovery rooms upstairs."

Jordan breathed a sigh of relief, clutching her heart. "I was afraid they had all passed away!"

"No, no. Actually, they are all recovering remarkably well. There are only a few left that require constant care."

Just then Astrid came walking in with her arms laden with linens. "Good afternoon, Jordan. How are you today?" She asked cheerfully.

"Fine. I just wanted to check on the men."

"They are all well. Wait right there. Let me put these away and then I would like to show you something."

"Alright."

"I must get back to my duties. Farewell, Jordan. Come back again…just next time, more quietly." Mariwen quipped.

"I will. Goodbye Mariwen." Jordan said with a friendly wave.

Finally Astrid came back and led her to one of the men. She pulled back the blanket and lifted his tunic to reveal the bandaged wound on his flank. She carefully pushed aside the cloth bandage and asked, "Did you sew this wound?"

"Yes, why?"

"I have never seen a stitch like this. It is good and strong. Will you show me how you did this?"

"Uh, sure, but I have nothing to practice on."

Astrid replaced the bandage and covered the man up again.

"Come with me."

Astrid led her to a small room adjacent to the main room; a supply room of sorts with many shelves and cupboards that lined the walls and a large table in the center. Astrid dug through the cupboards finally producing two pieces of thick hide and set them on the table. She left the room momentarily and came back with thread and a needle, setting those on the table as well.

"There."

"Well, it's called a pulley suture." Jordan began and did her best to demonstrate the technique on the two pieces of hide, explaining to Astrid when this particular suture technique is more appropriate than others.

"Thank you, Jordan. I will use this as an example to practice." Astrid said holding up the sewn hide, then added, "and thank you for all of the work you have done. I want to give you something in payment."

"No, really, that's not necessary."

"No, I insist. The healers are compensated by room and board or with household goods in trade for their work. You have no use for either." She reached into her apron and pulled out a little drawstring pouch. She held out Jordan's hand and shook the pouch, spilling two gold pieces into her palm. Jordan stared wide-eyed at the gold.

"You really mean to give me these?" She asked in awe.

"Yes, I know it's not much but at least you can replace your dress that was ruined."

"No, no, it's more than enough. Thank you!" Jordan said excitedly. It was the first time since her arrival in Middle-earth that she had provided for herself by her own endeavors.

"Off you go now. Go on to the market and buy yourself a pretty dress to wear for your Elf-friend."

"Pardon me?" Jordan said, slightly taken aback.

"You know, the Elf that was looking for you last night? I saw you two sitting together in the garden. He's beautiful, that one."

Obviously Astrid did not hear the argument that ensued. The smile fell away from Jordan's face and she looked down at the ground. "Yes, he is." She said quietly.

"Oh dear-is-me!" Astrid gasped in embarrassment. Judging by Jordan's reaction she must have misread the situation. "I am sorry. I thought…Oh," she said with a flustered sigh, "Sometimes I do not know when to keep my mouth shut."

Jordan held up her hand to stop her. "No, it's okay. Thank you for these." She said holding out the gold pieces. "I'll come by again tomorrow."

Closing her fist around them, she turned and left.

Actually, despite the awkwardness of how it was posed, Jordan liked Astrid's suggestion. All of her clothing so far had been hand-me-downs from Eowyn, which she was grateful for, but it would be nice to have something that she bought with her own money. The evenings were becoming quite cool and she needed a warmer gown and perhaps a shawl or cloak. She had no idea what two gold pieces would buy her, if anything, but she intended to find out.

--

The market was the central hub of activity in the city occupying a large open semi-circular stone courtyard on the third level. Curved rows of tents and carts out of which people peddled their wares lined the courtyard forming narrow walkways in between and in the center, stood a large fountain on a small grassy knoll where children splashed and played. It was a veritable assault on the senses. The walkways were teeming with city folk and the sounds of talking and laughter, children shrieking, and the squawking and bleating of livestock created a dull roar that rose up and echoed off the walls of the surrounding buildings. All manner of goods could be found at the market; from produce and livestock to colorful fabrics, clothing, jewelry, cookware, wooden furniture, even musical instruments. Some merchants had cooking pots over fire pits selling hot meals to hungry passersby and the smells of wood smoke, braised meats, soups, and stews filled the air.

Jordan weaved leisurely in and out of the crowds browsing the merchant's goods as she passed by; occasionally stopping to look at a bit of jewelry or some fabric. She finally came to a tent which had a number of gowns in various fabrics, long hooded cloaks, and shawls hanging from a line, a table lined with pairs of leather shoes and boots, and a smaller table still with all kinds of shiny rocks, crystals, and beads. This one wasn't quite as crowded as the rest. As she thumbed through the gowns, a large, brutish man came out from behind a curtained-off area in the back. He had the look of a man aged beyond his years by a life of hard labor with browned leathery skin, sagging eyes, and thinning hair that hung in greasy clumps. He wore a scowl under his scruffy beard and looked her up and down, all the while drumming his pudgy, dirt-stained fingers on the table. The few city folk browsing through the tent scurried off leaving Jordan alone.

"See anything ya like?" He asked coolly.

Jordan picked up a rather elegant burgundy-colored velvet gown and held it up to herself.

"How much is this one?"

He took a couple steps closer to her and cocked his head. "How much do ya got?"

There was something almost menacing about the man and Jordan decided she did not like him at all.

"Look, I just want to know how much it is."

"And I asked how much you got."

Not getting the answer she wanted, she sighed in frustration. She folded the dress over her arm and opened her hand revealing the gold she held. "Fine. I have two gold pieces."

He took a step closer; close enough she could smell his stale breath.

"Two gold pieces, eh?" He said, peering into her hand. "You can have the dress for two gold pieces _and_ this amulet of yours." He said and closed his thick fingers around the pendant she wore around her neck.

Jordan grasped the chain it hung from and pulled on it but the man did not lessen his grip.

"This is not for sale. It is sacred to me."

"Everything is for sale, missy."

Jordan was quickly becoming annoyed at the man's rude behavior.

"Never mind. I don't want the dress. Let go of my necklace."

She tugged harder on the chain trying to pull it out of his hand but the chain snapped and the pendant, now detached, remained in the clutches of the shady merchant.

"Is there a problem here?"

Jordan heard a deep voice come from behind her. Like a child caught with his hand in the cookie jar, the man quickly hid his hands behind his back and took a step backwards.

"No, no problem, Gandalf, sir. We was just, ah, negotiating."

Jordan turned around and saw an elderly fellow dressed in white robes and flowing long white hair to match, carrying a long, gnarled wooden walking staff. It was his appearance which surprised her because it did not match his authoritative voice at all.

"No we weren't! You broke my necklace and you've still got it in your hand!" She said pointing her finger at the merchant.

"Is this true?" Gandalf asked.

The man laughed nervously. "Well, ah…"

"Brown-Tom, let me see your hands."

He reluctantly held out his fists and opened them revealing the pendant. Gandalf took the pendant and held it up close to examine it before handing it back to Jordan.

"What about _my_ dress?" The merchant named Brown-Tom said indignantly motioning to the article in question still hanging over Jordan's arm.

"I must say Brown-Tom; the color would not suit you at all." Gandalf said, winking at Jordan.

"Hrmpf! That's not what I meant and you know it!"

"How much did you offer Brown-Tom for the dress?" Gandalf asked Jordan.

"Two gold pieces." Jordan answered.

"Done." Gandalf said.

"Not done!" Brown-Tom said. "It's worth at least ten!" He protested.

"You will give the lady the dress, take the two gold pieces and you will also give her that matching shawl over there as recompense for the necklace you broke. I will buy no crystals from you today and you'll do well to remember that next time you want to behave like an ill-mannered lout!" Gandalf boomed.

"Yes sir, Gandalf sir," Brown-Tom said, falling all over himself. "Here ya go, miss."

He shoved the shawl clumsily into Jordan's arms and took the gold pieces. Jordan gave Brown-Tom a smug smirk and turned to the intervening elderly fellow.

"Gandalf was it? Thank you Gandalf."

Jordan turned and walked off eager to be away from there and Gandalf followed.

"Ah, thank you for your patronage!" Brown-Tom called out in a shaky falsetto as they disappeared into the crowd.

"You never told me your name." Gandalf said, coming up behind Jordan.

"Oh, sorry. I am Jordan. So what are you, market security or something?" Jordan asked Gandalf as they walked through the market towards the main street. Gandalf laughed loudly.

"No my dear. I am a wizard. Gandalf the White am I called by most though I am known by a good many of other names for better or worse."

"A wizard; a _real_ wizard." She said skeptically.

He leaned in and spoke close to her ear. "Is that so hard to believe for someone who has come from another world? Or perhaps you only stole the trinket you wear with the strange writing of the Travelers."

Jordan froze, unable to speak either to defend herself or dispel his claims.

Gandalf cocked an eyebrow. "So, it is true."

"How did you know?"

"I have wandered far and wide and I can say with certainly nowhere does there exist a language like that here in Middle-earth ancient or otherwise, but more so, I have seen it before. I met and spoke with the Travelers when they came."

"But that was hundreds of years ago! That would make you…"

Gandalf chuckled. "My child, I am ageless; as timeless as the sea."

"Are you an Elf?"

"No. I am one of the Maiar; a servant of the Valar."

"Pardon me for asking, but _if_ you are a servant of the Valar, what are you doing browsing a market for common city-folk?"

"Why does one do anything? Because I rather enjoy it. I always stop to look over Brown-Tom's crystals when I come. He is a rather strange fellow; a bit cracked if you know what I mean, but he has a quite a knack for acquiring unusual goods and rare crystals. That dress you are holding? It is from a region known as Rhûn, whose inhabitants up until a few years ago were enemies of Gondor. Now, if you are quite done changing the subject, I would like to get back to the matter at hand. Are there others like you?"

"No. I am the only one."

"Will more be coming?"

"I would suspect not. The link in my world was destroyed. Look, you've been great, Gandalf. I appreciate your help with the dress, but I don't know you from Adam. I don't think I should say anything more about this."

"I do not know who this Adam is, but I assure you there are more dangerous folk to tell than I."

Just then, there was a woman's voice calling out from behind them as they walked up the street.

"Gandalf?"

Gandalf stopped and turned around.

"Eowyn! So good to see you. What brings you to the city?"

"I accompanied Faramir whom Aragorn summoned to a council meeting but now…well, it is a long story. Hello, Jordan. I see you have met Gandalf. Were you going to tea at Arwen's just now?"

"I was heading that way, yes."

"I will join you. I think some tea and conversation will fair well with me." Eowyn said, giving Jordan a knowing look.

"Now then, it seems we are all going in the same direction as I have business with Aragorn." Gandalf said.

Jordan studied the white-haired wizard as they made their way to the Citadel.

'If Eowyn and Faramir know him and he knows Aragorn, he must be alright, I guess.' She thought.

--

Descending from the base of the White Mountains, the high plains of Anorien stretched north for many leagues and were covered in knee-high bunchgrass and dotted with groves of old oak, beech, and linden trees. Small, unnamed streams wandered down from the mountains, trickling across the plains; whereby some took a more easterly course to the Anduin and some to the lowlands, or Wetwang, flowing through green channels under reeds and rushes to the Entwash. As they crested the ridge of the Stonewain Valley and on to the open plains, they no longer benefited from the protection of the valley's high walls and they set themselves on edge, keeping their weapons close at hand.

It was nearly sundown when Mordren spotted the first carcass of an Orc just outside of a large grove of tall trees.

Rolling the body over with his boot, he said with distaste, "This is no Orc, this is an Uruk."

Further on, in the seclusion of the grove, they encountered the main encampment. Some of the Gondorian soldiers had not even made it out of their bedrolls; slaughtered whilst they slept. Elsewhere, the twisted bodies of soldiers, Orcs, and Uruks intermingled; hated enemies that now lay as close as lovers. The ground, darkened by spilled blood, was now tainted and stench of death was outright oppressive.

Mordren addressed the group: "The situation is perhaps more dire than we thought. Up until now, we have only seen isolated skirmishes between the sparse factions of Orcs that remain and those who were unfortunate enough to cross paths with them in the wilds. It is widely known the Orcs and Uruk-hai share no great love for each other, but yet they have aligned themselves freely as a unified force, increasing their strength in numbers. This resurgence, I can only believe, signifies an organized effort to strike back at those who have oppressed them. This," he swept his arm out motioning to the bodies, "is only the beginning."

All nodded in agreement.

"Faramir, find a suitable spot to dig a wide grave. Legolas, gather any weapons left about. Set aside anything of use; the remainder will have to be hidden. The rest of us will gather the bodies. We need to work quickly. Night will be upon us and we cannot risk the use of torches to light our way."

"What about a fire for warmth?" Asked Firindor.

"If it is comfort you seek, Firindor, perhaps you should have stayed home with the women and children." Mordren replied smugly.

When their unpleasant task was complete, they stood in a solemn line beside the common grave for the fallen soldiers. Legolas turned his face to the sky which was now bathed in darkened shades of pink and gold, and sung a dirge in his native tongue committing their spirits to the hall of their fathers.

Mordren chose a spot for them to bed down for the night away from the main encampment, on the northern edge of the grove.

"We will have three shifts of watch, so that no one person goes without too much rest. Who will volunteer?" Asked Mordren.

"I will take the first shift." Legolas said.

"And I, second." Faramir offered.

"And I will take the last." Mordren said.

Because they had to forego carrying a bedroll in favor of weapons, the men used leaves and other soft debris as a pallet and slept on the open ground, clutching their cloaks tightly about them. Legolas sat down at the base of a tree near the perimeter of the camp and began his watch. He felt not the bodily discomfort of cold or hunger or fatigue, just a heaviness in his heart. His journey thus far had been a welcome distraction but now, in the quiet darkness, sorrow found him once again. He silently cursed himself for not waking Jordan to tell her of his love for her. He stood there right at her feet but could not will himself to act. He, who was a mighty warrior, who had stared into the face of death, had found his one fear; his one weakness: the pain that comes from a love unrequited. He knew not why she stayed. Had she had a change of heart or did she simple want to take some rest before she departed? It was this uncertainty that held him back. He could not bear to be refused again. More than likely she had left sometime during that very day but then why did he still feel that she was near when he turned his thoughts to her?

Legolas woke Faramir to take over the watch and then lay down on the rough ground using his pack to rest his head on. His eyes were closed but he did not sleep. He sought out the White City in his thoughts but found only a sense of worry and disquiet there.

--

Daybreak was nearly upon them and the land was shrouded in the gray muted light that comes before the sun has yet to rise above the edge of the world. Beyond the grove of trees, a low mist hung over the plains. The ground was damp with dew and the earthy smell was pungent in the cold, crisp air. After a small and decidedly unpalatable meal of dried meat and flat bread, they gathered their packs, eager to resume their mission. From the main camp, it was not hard to follow their path as the Orcs and Uruks tread carelessly on the ground bending and bruising the grass with their iron-shod feet cutting a wide swath across the plains.

The scouting party did not follow the Orc-path directly but kept it in sight, sticking closer to greener channels where water was accessible and ducking into groves of trees for cover providing it did not stray them too far off course. Their pace was neither frantic nor leisurely but as the day wore on, no closer did they seem to be to the Orcs. The sun rose to noon and then sank into the west. Shadow covered the land and the sky deepened into darkness and still they pressed on through the night and into the next day, stopping only for short reprieves. For two days hence the scouting party tracked the enemy in to the heart of Anorien but never could they close the distance.

On the afternoon of the fifth day, the scouting party came to a bend in the small stream that had been their only water source on this journey. They stood and stared in dismay at the lifeline of rushing water as it flowed now easterly towards the Anduin and away from their course.

"Now what?" Faramir asked.

"Fill up your water skins. Ahead, there is a village that lies along the Great West Road, only a day or so away. If our luck holds, there will be an inn where we can find food, water, and shelter for the night." Mordren said.

"Do these cursed Orcs ever sleep?" Eomer yelled. He picked up a small stone and hurled it towards the horizon in frustration. "This is fruitless. Five days and the only sign of our quarry are some broken stalks of field grass. Our food supply is nearly spent. We were not prepared for this. I say we turn back."

"No. We will continue on to the village."

"Mordren, this is folly! Our mission was only to track them and we have; halfway across Anorien! They could be well within the bounds of Mordor by now."

"I agree with Eomer. I think we should turn back." Firindor said.

"Look, I understand you are all exhausted," Mordren addressed the group, "but we will finish what we set out to do. Let us continue on until dusk at which time we will make camp and a good night's rest will see our strength renewed."

--

The days stretched on and still there was no sign of the scouting party. Jordan forced herself to get out and be amongst people. She had to keep herself busy and be productive. If she didn't, she knew she would take to moping around in her room dwelling on the situation and that would only make the time seem to pass slower. Every morning, Jordan would share breakfast with Eowyn in her quarters; then they would go for a walk around the city and Jordan would practice walking without her cane. When Legolas returned, she wanted to be able to walk to him unaided. Every afternoon, the women would gather at Arwen's house for lunch and tea and she would tell them tales of her childhood and the early days of Rivendell. Occasionally, she still visited the Houses of Healing. Though most of the soldier had recovered and had been sent home, she enjoyed conversing with the two healers in residence, Astrid and Mariwen; discussing their trade and sharing healing practices. Each day that passed, Jordan grew ever more fearful that something had happened to the entire scouting party and that no one was left to send back word. She wanted to go to Aragorn and beg him to send out a search party but feared she would be overstepping her bounds. She knew nothing of the ways of battle and warfare. No one else seemed quite as worried. They were used to this sort of thing, she supposed. Or maybe they just hid it better.

Nighttime was the most difficult for Jordan when all was quiet and there was nothing to distract her thoughts. It became ritual to go out to the balcony and think of Legolas before retiring to her bed. One such evening, Jordan stood on her balcony and peered out into the blackness beyond the city. Legolas was somewhere out there. Was he in danger? Was he hurt? Was he saddened to think she had left Middle-earth?

"I am still here. I haven't left." She whispered to the darkness.

There was a chill in the air and she pulled her shawl tightly around her shoulders. She hated to think of him out there in the dark, sleeping on the cold, hard ground. Jordan blocked out everything else and focused her thoughts on Legolas. It was strange. It was almost as if she could feel his presence. She felt, with a fair amount of certainty, that he was alive and well although passed it off as merely her imagination. She wished she could comfort him somehow, but of course she knew it was impossible. So instead, she sang him to sleep from across the miles.

(Nocturne – Visit this section of chapter 18 at elvenladyofithilien dot com to listen)

--

Fall was fast approaching and although the days were still rather warm, the nights were getting colder. Legolas felt fortunate he did not have to fend off its chill as did his companions. He rested comfortably against the trunk of the tree with his legs stretched out before him; fingers interlaced behind his head. He listened to the faint murmurings of the trees as they spoke to one another and took comfort in them. Gazing at the moon that hung like a sliver of gold against the black tapestry of night, his thoughts turned to Jordan as they often did. Had she chosen to remain in Middle-earth? Was she at this very moment gazing up at the same moon? His heart told him yes. It was almost like he could feel her reaching out to him; waiting and worrying. If only he could let her know somehow he was alright.

A scene unfolded in Legolas' mind: hovering high above the city, looking onto the balcony of Jordan's quarters. She leaned on its railing with folded arms, looking up into the night sky. She wore a gown of the deepest claret that he had never seen before. Tendrils of her hair caught the breeze and gently danced around her head. She was achingly beautiful, yet sad, with worried brows that shadowed her face. Then she began to sing. Her voice floated on the breeze like cottonwood on a summer's day and caressed his ears with its gentle tones. It seemed so real, he spied around quickly at his companions to see if they too heard it. Not one of them stirred. He closed his eyes and listened closer, straining to hear the lyrics. He thought it only the rumination of a restless mind, a fragment of a memory perhaps, but it was a song she had never sung to him.

--

At first light, the scouting party set out for the village. They had rested a full night but it had little effect on morale. The food rations they had started the journey with were now gone and it seemed there was little hope of providing any for themselves out in the wilds. Berries in this region could only be found sporadically in wooded areas and were of the poisonous variety. Game seemed oddly scarce for this time of year. They had seen neither live beast or tracks of such for days. Even birds seemed infrequent in their flight overhead.

The mood was somber and no one spoke much as they trudged on mile after mile. By the afternoon, they were just rounding the base of a small hill. On the other side, the plains stretched on endless to either side of them but up ahead, the plains were broken up by a large grove of trees.

"Look! There is smoke in the distance beyond the trees!" Firindor exclaimed.

"It probably rises from the village. We are close now. Soon, men, we will be enjoying a hot meal and ale to wash it down." Mordren replied cheerfully.

"I, for one, will be glad to have a soft bed to rest my weary bones!" Firindor said.

Legolas shook his head "No. It is too large a column to be from the cook fires of a village. If, in fact, the village lies in that direction, perhaps they are burning something." "Or the village itself is burning." Eomer added ominously.

"If the course of the Orc-path holds true, surely this is their handiwork and I do not think we will like the end result." Said Faramir.

Realizing the village may be under attack, the scouting party quickened their pace. Just on the other side of a large grove of trees, they came to a rocky ridge where the land abruptly fell away. Some distance to their right, the ridge took a gentler slope providing a path to make their descent. Below them lay the village and just beyond, the Great West Road stretched out like a thin black serpent across the land. Wispy gray and black plumes of smoke billowed up lazily and hung in gloomy layers over the village, darkening the air around it.

The village, which was no more than a small, idyllic community of farmers and merchants, could afford no outer defenses. Its little stone homes and shops were wide open to attack and its residents ill-equipped for battle. As they got closer, they could see everything that could burn had been consumed by flames. Only the blackened shells of stone buildings still stood, but their thatched roofs were reduced to smoldering piles of ash. A few of the larger building were charred but managed to escape complete destruction. Some of the walls of smaller, more poorly built structures had been toppled over and were now nothing more than piles of rubble. Many of the villagers lay dead in the streets; many more were probable dead in what was left of their homes.

"We are too late." Legolas lamented.

Faramir walked over to one of the bodies and plucked an arrow from his side. Holding it up to inspect, its crude design confirmed what they all suspected.

"Orcs!" He said with disgust and tossed the arrow on to the ground.

"Split up." Mordren said. "Search the buildings but be on your guard. It could be a trap. Refrain from yelling out unless absolutely necessary. We do not want to call attention to ourselves until we know the threat has passed…and keep your eye out for a well or any source of water. We will meet up at the far end of the village, near the entrance from the Great West Road."

They set off in all directions with their weapons drawn.

Down each alley and street, house by house, they picked their way through the village to the opposite end. It did not take long to discover that none of the villagers had survived the attack and the Orcs had moved on. As they finished their search, one by one, the members of the scouting party arrived at the far end of the village; all except Firindor.

"I found the well." Faramir said as he walked up.

"And?" Asked Mordren.

"Poisoned. Tainted by debris and ash." He replied.

"Where is Firindor?" Asked Eomer.

They looked at each other, shrugging their shoulders. They peered down the alleyways from where they stood, searching for any movement, but saw no sign of him.

"We had better go back and find him. He may have ran into some trouble." Mordren said.

--

Firindor came to one of the larger buildings that had been spared from the fire. The double wooden doors were hacked and splintered and hanging askew from bent hinges. He sheathed his sword, having to use both hands to force one of the doors open further so he could get through. Inside, the entire space was a single large, open room. The only light came from a few small casements set high in the wall and through the cracks in the main doors. Shadows loomed in every corner. He took a few steps further in and scanned the room, letting his eyes adjust to the dim light. To his left, were several rows of tall racks spanning the length of the room, some of which had been overturned. To his right, large crates and wooden barrels lined the wall. It appeared to be the village's food stores but it had been ransacked; raided by the Orcs. The shelves were bare save for a few sacks of flour but they had been ripped open and the powdery substance spilt onto the shelves and floor. Most of the crates had been smashed and their contents removed. He walked a few steps further and heard a tiny splash. He cringed, afraid to look down. Slowly, he lowered his gaze to the ground and saw that he had stepped in a puddle of dark liquid. He saw no body, so it was safe to say it was not blood. Looking around, he was relived to see it had come from a broken barrel of wine - apparently split with an axe and the wine had poured out onto the floor.

Suddenly a crouching figure behind the crates sprang forth from the shadows. With a wild shriek, they stumbled forward lunging at Firindor, a sword outstretched, and ran it clean through his middle. Feeling the sword sink into flesh, the figure dropped the hilt and fell backwards into the shaft of light coming through the casement revealing their face. It was only a thin wisp of a boy who looked to be no more than sixteen or seventeen years of age; his clothes torn and ragged and covered with smudges of ash.

--

The others were just skirting the side of a large building when they heard an awful shriek come from inside. They sprinted around the corner and charged through the doors, weapons drawn. They expected to find a host of the enemy but what they saw shocked them more than would Orcs and it stopped them in their tracks. They looked at Firindor and then to the boy laying on the ground. Legolas already had an arrow nocked when he entered and now took deadly aim at the boy's heart. He disengaged, quickly shoving the arrow back in his quiver, when he saw that the boy was no longer a threat and his weapon no longer lay in his hand.

(I Asked For Love – Visit this section of Chapter 18 at elvenladyofithilien dot com to listen)

"Firindor!" Mordren screamed.

A gurgling sound escaped Firindor's lips as he looked down at the sword protruding from his stomach. He wrapped his hands around it and staggered a few steps back. Mordren caught him and slowly lowered his body to the floor.

"Stay with me, Firindor!"

Faramir fell to his knees next to Firindor to assist Mordren. Eomer rushed forward and yanked the boy up by the collar of his tunic and shook him violently.

"What have you done?" He screamed.

"Eomer stop!" Legolas grasped his shoulder. "Look at him!"

Eomer's face froze in shock as he looked into the boy's lifeless, cloudy eyes - he was blind. Eomer let go and the boy stumbled backwards and fell to the ground. He scrambled to his knees and pleaded with them.

"I am sorry my lords." The boy sobbed. "I could not see you! I though the Orcs had come back. I thought you were Orcs!" He wailed over and over.

"Get him out of here!" Faramir yelled.  
Legolas slung his bow over his shoulder and dragged the boy, still sobbing and shaking, outside.

"Please, just kill me; just kill me!" He shrieked.

"I am not going to kill you." Legolas said sternly.

Legolas could not make him stand, so he hoisted him over his shoulder and carried him over to a length of fence that still stood near the remains of the stables. A severed lead rope that had once held a horse was still tied to the fence and Legolas used this to bind the boy's hands in front of him and secure him to the railing.

"Stay quiet. We will come back for you."

The boy had calmed down somewhat though he still gasped in heaving breaths from crying. Tears streamed down his face, washing clean the dirt and ash away in streaks.

"The man I wounded…is he going to die?"

"Yes." Legolas said solemnly and rushed back to the group leaving the boy to anguish in solitude.

Mordren ripped off his cloak and wrapped it around the sword trying to staunch the flow of blood that seeped from the wound. Firindor gasped in short, ragged breaths and coughed weakly, trying to clear the blood that pooled in his throat. A thin line of red trickled from the corner of his mouth. Legolas came back in and rejoined the men crouched around Firindor.

"I had my sword sheathed…I…" Firindor choked out.

"Do not try to speak. You are going to be alright. You are go…" Mordren's voice cracked. He looked away and covered his mouth with the crook of his arm to hide his quivering jaw and eyes that shined with unshed tears. Growling in anger, he composed himself and turned back towards Firindor.

"You are doing well; just hold on." Mordren said, trying to project confidence in his voice.

Firindor clawed at Mordren' tunic, grasping a handful of the fabric, and pulled his face close to his.

"Please…" He whispered hoarsely. "Please tell…my wife…" He started to cough causing more blood to spill from the corners of his mouth and his eyes glazed over. "Tell Mariwen…I love her."

He released his grip on Mordren's tunic and went limp.

"Firindor!" Mordren screamed.

"He's gone." Legolas said softly and brushed his hand over Firindor's eyes, closing them forever.

Eomer slammed his fist into the floor. "Curse it all!" He stood up and ran his hand through his hair, pacing back and forth. "Foolish! A foolish waste!" He said angrily. "Where is that boy? So help me, I will kill him!"

"Eomer, calm yourself. There is no use in rash judgment in the face of mourning. The boy is not the enemy you seek." Legolas said.

Mordren hung his head. "So young…He…he was like a son to me."

Faramir put his hand on Mordren's shoulder. "There was nothing any of us could do. The wound was just too grave."

--

Faramir and Legolas carried Firindor's body outside and laid him on the ground. Mordren and Eomer followed after.

"What will we do?" Faramir asked. "We cannot carry his body all the way Minas Tirith on foot."

Mordren shook his head and kicked at the ground. "No. These accursed remains will have to serve as his final resting place."

The company chose a soft, grassy spot a ways from the village to lay to rest their companion and placed a grouping of stones on top of the mound to serve as a nameless marker. Dark clouds rolled in over the plain covering the waning sun and ushered in the threat of rain. A gusty wind picked up and swirled about them blowing their hair in their eyes as they stood silently beside the fresh grave. This time, Legolas had not the heart to sing any words of comfort.

Mordren took a step back ending their solemn reverie. "Let us make camp. We will decide our course of action in the morning." He said resignedly.

"What of the boy? Shall I fetch him?" Legolas asked.

Mordren sighed heavily. "No."

"I don't understand. Is it your plan to leave him behind? He will starve to death."

"What would you have me do?" Mordren asked.

"We cannot take him with us, you know that." Faramir cut in.

"You should have just let me kill him." Eomer spat.

"No! Enough blood has been spilt this day. He was frightened. He did not mean to kill Firindor." Legolas said angrily.

"Legolas, you are right in saying he will starve. He cannot fend for himself. Which death would be more appealing to you?" Eomer snapped.

"We have no food, water is scarce, and we are weary to the bone. We cannot take him with us. He will be a burden on us; one that we cannot bear. As much as it pains me to say so, I agree with Eomer. There is no one left to care for him. The village's food stores have been ransacked. To let him wander around in the wilderness, blind and lame, would be cruel." Mordren said. "A quick death would be merciful."

Legolas stopped and looked him straight in the eye. "Killing him is not going to bring back Firindor."

Mordren let out a strangled growl and charged him; hitting him square in the chest and shoving him backwards.

"What would you know about death, Elf?" He screamed.

Legolas clenched his fists and stood his ground but did not retaliate. Faramir rushed over and restrained Mordren.

"Enough! Both of you!" Faramir commanded. "Now is not the time to turn upon each other."

"Mordren, this is wrong." Legolas implored him. "He is a living being, not a beast that needs to be put down. Release him. Perhaps there is a chance he would survive." Mordren wrestled out of Faramir's grip, holding his hands up in surrender and Faramir backed off.

"Fine! I will release the boy; and he will be left to whatever grim fate awaits him." Mordren growled. "Double back and make camp in the grove of trees up on the ridge. I will catch up."

Faramir put his arm around Legolas' shoulder and pulled him away. "Come my friend. You need rest. We all do."

--

Mordren quickly made his way back through the village, looking back periodically to make sure he was not being followed. He found the boy sitting on the ground still bound to the fence. As he approached, his footsteps alerted the boy to his presence.

"Who's there?" He called out.

"Do not fear boy. It is I, Mordren."

"I am sorry I killed your man. I didn't mean to. Please forgive me." He whimpered.

Mordren knelt beside the boy. "What is your name?" He asked gently.

"Rorindil, my lord, but people call me Rory. It is so quiet now. Where is everyone? I do not hear any voices."

Mordren untied the rope around his wrists and tossed it aside.

"Rory, listen to me carefully. Do you know why the Orcs attacked your village?"

"They had come several times demanding food and supplies in return for sparing our village. The elders were frightened of them and gave them what they asked but this time they refused. Winter will be coming on and we need all that we have; the crops were short this year. My family runs the inn. If you would be so kind as to lead me there, I am certain they can put you and your men up free of charge, as long as you want." Rory offered.

(Rory's lament – Visit this section of chapter 18 at elvenladyofithilien dot com to listen)

"I am sorry to say but the inn has been destroyed."

"My parents? My brothers?" He choked.

"We searched the entire village. There were none who survived the attack. I am sorry."

Rory slumped forward, hanging his head, and covered his face with his hands.

"No, oh no." He sobbed.

"Rory, listen to me." Mordren said grabbing him by the shoulders. "Do you think you can make your way to the next village?"

"No, my lord. I am blind as you know and my foot is withered. I was born this way you see and I have never once left this village. I do not know the way."

Mordren felt a sickening feeling in the pit of his stomach and words failed him. It was not the answer he was hoping for. When Mordren didn't respond, Rory continued.

"Please, what am I to do? Will you not help me?" He cried.

Mordren pulled Rory into his chest and held him for a while, rocking him like a child. "Shh. It is alright now. All is well, do not fear." Mordren murmured.

In one quick motion, he reached up and snapped the boy's neck and he slackened in Mordren's arms. He held the boy's lifeless body and wept bitterly.

"I am sorry, Rory…I am so sorry." He said over and over, rocking back and forth.

A streak of lightning lit up the darkened sky and thunder rumbled overhead. Suddenly the sky opened up and let loose a deluge of heavy rain. In mere minutes, the ground turned to mud around him. He turned his face to the sky; droplets splashing on his skin and dripping off his eyelashes mixing with the tears that streamed down his cheeks.

"The life of a friend has been taken tonight and now I, too, have taken a life." He said bitterly. Then he raised his voice and cried out to the empty sky. "Eru forgive me for what I have done!"

Mordren knew he could not linger much longer. He laid Rory's body gently on the ground and stood up.

"Be at peace, child." He whispered.

He sniffed and wiped the rain and tears from his face in vain. Though defeated in spirit, he composed himself outwardly as best as he could and hurried off to join the rest of the scouting party.

A.N.: I know you guys are about ready to kill me drawing this out for so long, so I'll give you a little spoiler: Legolas and Jordan _will_ see each other again…someday.


	21. And Then There Were Three

A.N: Thank you to all who reviewed! Keep an eye out for the next chapter sometime at the end of this week!

-ELoI

* * *

**Chapter 19 – And Then There Were Three**

Through the rain and the mud and the grey mists of twilight Mordren ran. He ran until his lungs burned and his muscles ached from the effort but he kept on. Not one minute longer could he stand to look upon the broken, desolate remains and the dead that surrounded him there. He did not stop until he was clear of the village. Doubled over, gasping in heaving breaths, he rested until his breathing returned to normal. Only then did he dare turn around and give the village one last look, then let his gaze wander in the direction of the grave of Firindor.

"Goodbye, my friend. May the Valar guide you to a place where you can find peace. I promise I will do as you asked." He whispered.

He tried to leave the memories of the village behind, tried to erase from his mind what he had done as he turned his back to the sight and walked on but they haunted his steps. Outwardly, he appeared only as a man wearied by hunger, days of endless pursuit, and nights of broken sleep. Inwardly, however, was a man tormented by a grievous act of desperation. With trepidation, he slowly climbed the steep ridge to the grove where the rest of the scouting party waited. What would he say to them? What would come out when the moment was upon him and all eyes were fixed on him expectantly? His calloused skin from years of hard living and battle now felt as thin as parchment paper and nearly as transparent. He killed a man…no, a boy with his bare hands. Would they see the sin that lay just beneath the surface? It was the humane thing to do! This he believed, or at least thought. Why then, did it feel like he had yet to be convinced?

It was nearly dark when Mordren stumbled into the encampment. He could barely make out the huddled figures pressed up against the tree trunks trying to take advantage of any measure of shelter from the steady drizzle the boughs could provide. The hood of his cloak and the mists of rain shadowed Mordren's face for which he was grateful. They would not see his expression clearly should it happen to belie his words when he spoke of what transpired. He could feel the weight of their stares bearing down on him, waiting for him to report.

"How does the boy fare?"

Legolas was the first to speak up although the outcome was on everyone's mind for one motive or another.

Mordren cleared his throat, hoping it would rid his voice of any strain. "Better than I had hoped. It turns out he has kin in the next village and knows the trail well. He has been making the journey there and back with the aid of a walking staff for quite some time. I suspect he will be fine."

There was something in his voice. Legolas could not pin it down. The pitch perhaps? It was a little too high. His delivery seemed forced. It gave Legolas an uneasy feeling. If it was a lie, what could he do? Call him out in front of the group? He had no proof. It would only appear as an attempt to undermine his leadership. Perhaps when the time was right, he would confront Mordren in private.

They had left the village right before the rain began and it had not occurred to them to secure a pot or vessel to collect it in. The leaves that had not turned but were still green and pliable they plucked from the trees and used them to catch the water dripping from low branches. A few sips were all that resulted, just barely enough to wet their mouths and parched throats, but it would have to suffice. Mordren had no mind to attend to their needs in his grief-driven haste and had come empty handed as well; now he drank in this same manner before sitting down to take his rest.

It was decided that everyone would share the responsibility of keeping watch for all were equally as tired, though it was doubtful that _anyone_ would get sleep on a night like tonight. The ground was cold and wet and the bitter wind, icy and prickling on their skin, howled and battered the trees relentlessly. Their cloaks were soaked clean through and offered no warmth. Even Legolas, who had more vigor by nature than the men, was beginning to wither from the effects of little sleep and even less nourishment. Although he was unaffected by the cold, his saturated garments were heavy and clung to his skin most uncomfortably.

--

Jordan paced back and forth in front of the doorway to the balcony wringing her hands. Streaks of lightning lit up the darkness and the ferocious winds drove the rain in sheets skittering across the stone tiles. She cringed when the baritone thunder rumbled in the firmament. Occasionally, she would stop and stare out into the blackness. Legolas was somewhere out there. Had he found shelter or was he caught in this terrible storm? Before tonight, she had sensed he was fine, but now she knew in her heart something was wrong; something bad had happened.

Since Legolas' departure, she had always felt a connection with him when she sought him out in her mind; a subtle awareness or perhaps intuition. She didn't know how or why or if she only imaging these feelings she felt for her own peace of mind. More than likely they shared no actual connection; how could they? But it felt real to her, she _wanted_ it to be real. She did not want to have false hope.

Imagined or not, she was worried and her growing impatience was quickly turning into desperation. She wanted him to come back, now! She wanted to hear a knock at the door or see him come barging through; something, anything! She concentrated on the door as if she could will it to happen.

'_Come on, come on…any minute now…knock on the door damn it!'_

Nothing.

She growled in frustration and flopped down in the chair covering her face with her hands.

'_Oh Legolas, hurry up! I need to know you're alright.'_

--

The long night was finally through. The storm had passed and the sky shone a bright blue in the early morning light. No one spoke as they gathered their damp belongings and prepared to move out.

Dark had been Mordren's thoughts that night. His mental status was beginning to suffer as a result of hunger and dehydration. Fear and guilt gnawed at him, not only about the boy, but he held himself personally responsible for Firindor's death. And Mariwen…he would have to tell the young bride that her husband was dead. It would not be the first time he had to tell a woman that she was now a widow. He was not an evil man, but years of warfare had calloused his heart. He made decisions without thought, without remorse because it was what was required of him as a soldier and a leader. How many men had died in battle under his lead? Good men who were cut down before their time. How many of those deaths were a result of poor judgment? He could not say.

He was the captain of the Gondorian army and he was being commanded to lead a small group of men, and one elf, to gather information; a fact that could have been perceived as an insult to his rank. He approached the mission with haughtiness, having little regard for its difficulty or importance. After all, this was not battle! He could have done more to ensure they were better prepared and equipped for what lay ahead. His pride was the reason for the grim situation they were in. Self-doubt crept into the corners of his mind leaving his confidence in his abilities shaken. He had failed them; or so his mind told him. He was not fit to be their leader, nor the leader of the Gondorian army – a fact that he would remedy when they returned to Minas Tirith. He would resign his rank and go into exile, carrying his shame with him.

Yet the ragged band of scouts still looked to him expectantly for their orders and he stared at the ground, paralyzed in making a decision fearing he would bring more devastation upon them.

"Mordren? What say you? What is our plan?" Eomer asked.

He finally looked up and said, "As you know, the success of our mission now stands in jeopardy and our options are few. Since the immediate course of action affects us all, I would hear your opinions."

"We should head back to Minas Tirith in all haste; take the Great West Road to the next village." Legolas said. "From there, we can rest and regroup."

"The nearest village is two days from here. It would be a risk but it is our best chance. Good, good." Mordren said.

"No. We should not deviate from our mission. We must pick up the Orc-trail from the last village. We have already lost precious time. And while you would have us stand here and debate, the distance grows between us!" Faramir said sourly.

"Your sense of duty is commendable but what would you have us subsist on, Faramir? Rain water and field rats?" Mordren argued.

"The Woses." Eomer said.

"What?" The others said in unison.

"The Woses; the wild men of the Drúadan forest. It is a half day's journey at most to the northeastern border. They _have_ helped us in the past. Perhaps they would be willing to do so again." Eomer explained.

"The wild men? They are savages! There are just as likely to eat us as they are to help us!" Faramir sneered.

"I admit, they are rather…ah…primitive, but their aid was essential to the Rohirrim during the war. Had it not been for their revealing of an alternate route through the Stonewain Valley, it would have resulted in a costly delay. You know this."

"Yes, but you had an army of horsemen. We are but four people."

"Primitive or not, I think Eomer has come up with a wise plan. There may be hope for us yet." Mordren said. "Is this agreeable to all?"

"Aye."

"Aye."

"No."

All eyes turned to Faramir.

"Faramir, do not be a fool! Survival has become our first and foremost objective now. What use are we when we have not the strength to stand? Although not in the manner we expected, we _have_ achieved our goal. All that was asked of us was to track the Orcs, _not _engage them in battle. No, we did not set our eyes on them but we have seen enough. Obviously they are great enough in number to slaughter an entire village. It is up to Aragorn now how he wishes to proceed." Eomer said.

"Eomer is right, Faramir. It is time to go home." Legolas said gently.

Faramir stood huffing for a bit while everyone scrutinized him, waiting impatiently for a reply. He knew he was outnumbered and finally relented.

"Fine." He said through clenched teeth.

Mordren and Eomer set off in the direction of the Drúadan Forest leaving Faramir standing there. Legolas stayed behind with Faramir until the two men were out of hearing range.

"I know what it is you seek - to exact revenge for Turgon's death, but it will not set things right. What's done is done. You have to let this go or it will consume you." He said, patting Faramir's shoulder, then walked on to join the others.

--

By late afternoon, they saw the border of the Drúadan forest rising up abruptly from the plains. The journey had left them all weakened in both body and mind, but they trudged on; the sight of the forest providing much needed encouragement.

It was forbidden to enter the Drúadan forest freely; a rule imposed when Aragorn became king for the protection of the people that lived therein – the Drúedain or the wild men as they were more commonly known. So they stood at its edge hoping to get the attention of any border guards, if indeed they had some.

"Hello?" Mordren shouted into the woods. "We seek entrance to these woods. We require only food and shelter for the night. We mean you no harm."

To that, they received no response. All was silent and still in the forest.

"How does one get leave to enter if there is no one to ask?" Eomer said in frustration.

"Perhaps we should go further in, calling as we go." Faramir said.

"Alright. But do not draw your weapons. We do not want to be perceived as a threat."

They proceeded into the forest cautiously, picking their way through the dense underbrush.

"Hello?" Mordren called again.

Suddenly, Mordren felt a sharp sting at his neck.

"Ah!" He cried out. Instantly, his hand flew up to slap away whatever had stung him.

Mordren felt a stick protruding from the flesh of his neck. He plucked it out angrily and held it up to his face to see. It was a poisoned dart. The world seemed to slow around him. He could see his companions shouting at him but the sound was lost before it reached his ears. His lips felt hot and thick and he pawed at them feebly with hands that were as heavy as lead.

"Mordren!" Legolas yelled.

With a few nimble leaps, Legolas was at the man's side, catching him by his tunic at the shoulders just before his legs buckled beneath him. "Mordren! What has happened? Answer me!"

He stared at Legolas unblinking through glassy, despondent eyes and went limp in Legolas' grasp, sliding to the ground. He had called the wrath of the wild men upon them and now his sword would be of no use to defend against it.

With lightning speed, they drew their weapons, poised to strike down an enemy they could not see.

"Mord…"

Before Legolas could get his name out, he too felt the sting of a dart. He staggered away from Mordren's slumped form and dropped his bow, clawing at his neck to remove the dart. His fingers felt stiff and clumsy and his limbs were no longer his own to command. "I warned you all, but you would not listen to me!" Faramir shouted.

Eomer and Faramir spun around wildly, waving their swords at their invisible assailants until at last, they too had succumbed to the poison darts.

As weakened as they were, the poison did not take long to affect them and now, the entire scouting party lay on the ground struggling to hold on to consciousness.

"Faramir!" Eomer croaked, trying in vain to will his arm to reach out to him.

The last thing any of them saw was several short, stout men clad in grass about their waists and animal pelts draped around their shoulders hovering over them, blotting out the sun.

More wild men scurried from the trees carrying two great poles and rope. They tied their captive's wrists and ankles together around the poles, two to each pole, chanting while they worked. Then, hoisting the poles on to their shoulders, they carried them off into the forest like prized game.

--

Legolas awoke with a sharp inhale realizing he lay on the hard ground. His head throbbed and his mouth was dry. How he came to be here still eluded his memory. His vision was blurred, but he saw green all around him and felt the coolness of shade and understood he was surrounded by trees. He tried to sit up but quickly discovered he could not move his arms. He felt the prickling of coarse rope around his wrists and realized they were bound behind his back. He looked around, straining to focus his eyes and saw his companions near to him, waking to find themselves in a similar situation. He struggled to his knees and started to crawl over to Eomer but was yanked back sharply and forced to stay put. Several short men closed in and yanked the others to their knees, lining them up a row next to Legolas. As their wits slowly came back to them, the realized they were deep within the Drúadan Forest, in the presence of the wild men.

A man leaned over them with his chest thrust forward proudly and his fists at his hips. He was dressed in the same manner as the others with dark hair hung in thick ropes except he wore a crown of woven grass.

"Forest belong to Drúedain! To come in forest against rule. King of stone-houses make it so!" He said angrily, waving his finger at the group. "Since men leave forest alone, Drúedain do well! Hunted we are no more. We live in peace. Now men come again and Orc-folk come again. This is trouble we do not want part of." The wild man said roughly in the common speech.

Mordren spoke for the group. "Forgive us. We are aware of the law, however no one answered our calls on the border, so we entered on our own accord. We meant no offence."

"They do not answer because they do not know tongues of men! Now, what is men's business in forest?"

"We are tracking a party of Orcs across the plains. My men are weary and weak. We already lost one man at a village not too far from here. Our food has since run out and our need is dire. We have come to speak with the one they call Ghân-buri-Ghân. I am told he has helped our kind in the past."

"Unless you have way to speak to spirits, Son of stone-houses, you cannot. Ghân-buri-Ghân dead. I am Anoki-Ghân, _son_ of Ghân-buri-Ghân"

"We ask only for food, water, and shelter for the night, nothing more. Then we will be on our way. Will you help us Anoki-Ghân?"

"Oosa!" He boomed.

A woman scurried forward and touched her brow to the ground before him.

"_No-bo eska han! Turé!_" He said forcefully and clapped his hands twice.

The woman hurried off through the trees and returned shortly with a large earthen vessel of water. She came to Mordren, knelt before him, and held the vessel up to his lips. Mordren drank awkwardly, not having the use of his hands, dribbling the water down his chin until she pulled it away and moved on to Faramir.

When they had all had their fill, Oosa stepped to the side.

"Good?" Anoki-Ghân asked.

"Yes, good. Thank you, Anoki-Ghân. You are most gracious." Mordren said with a respectful nod of his head.

"Tonight is start of Drúedain sacred feast. Your presence here is, how I say? Awkward. Outsiders not participate."

"Again, please accept our humblest apologies. We would not have come if there were any other…"

Anoki-Ghân interrupted him. "_However_…there may be other way. Now, wild men great warriors. They spill their blood, kill Orc-folk. Share in feast you may, but you must spill blood too. Your blood will mingle with our blood and warriors we be together!"

"I do not like the sound of that. What do you think he means?" Faramir whispered nervously into Mordren's ear.

"I do not know, but I think if they intended to kill us, they would have done so already." He whispered back.

"Do you accept?" Anoki-Ghân asked.

They looked to each other questioningly. What choice did they have?

"We accept." Mordren said.

One of the Drúedain men came forth wielding a long knife and stooped behind them. They held their breath collectively; his intentions unknown to them. To their relief, the man only cut the rope binding their wrists. They stood up one by one on shaky legs, each rubbing their wrists where the rope had chaffed them.

"Oosa!" Anoki-Ghân boomed again. She scurried back over and bowed before him. Anoki-Ghân spoke to her in their native tongue, then turned to the scouting party and said, "This is Oosa. Follow her. She will help prepare you for ceremony and feast."

--

The dirt trail she led them down was worn smooth from years of use. The underbrush was quite tall and dense forming natural walls that flanked the narrow trail and with so many turns and twists in its course, it made it nearly impossible to see what lay ahead. Trails converged and diverged in all directions. It would be easy to become lost. Just around a sharp bend, the narrow path they walked now joined another and became a bit wider. The dense brush opened up to a clearing and there in the middle of the forest sat a large cluster of thatched roof huts. Wood smoke rose and drifted lazily above the roof tops and the smell of food cooking permeated the air.

"This must be the main village." Faramir said.

Oosa turned around quickly looking perturbed. She pressed a finger to her lips.

"No speak!" She barked.

The village was lively with activity, and the trails were highly trafficked. As they zigzagged between the huts, they often had to turn sideways to let people pass by them. The wild men and women dashed back and forth carrying pots, cooking utensils, platters of food, even musical instruments; all most likely in preparation for the feast. The members of the scouting party received quite a few odd looks from the people they passed. Some of the Drúedain actually stopped what they were doing and outright stared. The members of the scouting party simply smiled and nodded their heads in return trying to appear friendly, but it was quite unnerving.

Finally out of the village and back into the dense brush, the trail climbed up a low ridge, then descended down into a gulley where a small river ran clean and cool through the forest. The river was quite rocky and where it made a bend, it formed a natural bathing pool. To further separate it from the rest of the river, the Drúedain piled stones up in the water as a dike.

She pointed to the stream. "_Din._"

They looked at her with confusion, so she squatted down, splashed her hand in the water and rubbed her arms. "_Din! Turé!_" She said again impatiently, waving them towards the water. "_Uktsu-boes te gana!_"

"I _think_ she means for us to bathe." Legolas said.

They were reluctant to remove their garments in front of her but she stood waiting rather impatient-like, with her hands on her hips. Once they began to disrobe, she appeared satisfied and dashed back down the trail. As they all eased into the deep clear blue pool, they were surprised to discover it was warm; a natural hot springs in the river, and it felt heavenly to their weary bones. It was large enough to accommodate the four of them comfortably and just deep enough that if they stood on the bottom, the water came up to their chests.

Eomer leaned back and wet his hair. "I suppose it would be too much to ask for some soap."

Oosa soon returned accompanied by two other women. She carried a basket which she set down along the river bank, then she and the two women gathered up the scouting party's garments and weapons in their arms and disappeared into the trees again.

"They are taking our clothes. Hey you! Come back here! Oosa!" Mordren shouted.

It was too late. The women were long gone.

"What shall we do now? Do they expect us to attend the feast in naught but our skin?" Legolas asked.

"Let us hope not." Eomer said.

Faramir swam over to the bank and peered into the basket.

"Ask and you shall receive." He said tossing a bar of soap to Eomer and another to Legolas.

They wasted no time washing the grime and dust off their bodies from the long journey, then washed their hair as well.

"Ah! I feel like a new man!" Eomer said.

"Not I. I am starving. When do you suppose the feast will start?" Faramir said.

Legolas hoisted himself out of the water and peered into the basket.

"There are towels in here."

He took one, shook it out, and wrapped it around his body. One by one the men got out, grabbed a towel and now they stood on the banks shivering, wondering what to do.

"Here comes Oosa now."

This time, Oosa was accompanied by three young women. Each of them carried a stack of folded garments. They bowed low, offering the clothing up with outstretched arms, then stepped back a few feet. It was not the scouting party's own clothing but the native clothing of the wild men.

"It appears that in order to partake of their feast, we must dress as one of them." Legolas said.

"By the Valar, I am not wearing _this_!" Eomer said.

"I do not think you have much of a choice." Legolas said.

With much grumbling, they donned the woven grass garments and fur pelts, arranging and fastening them as best they could in the same fashion the Drúedain men did. Oosa and the other women came forward again and made a few adjustments here and there to their new attire.

"Ah! _Chaka hamat_!" She said happily to the other women who nodded, appearing to agree with her.

Then they took long, colorful strands of braided cord and knelt down at the men and elf's feet wrapping one around each of their ankles, then another around each of their upper arms. The Drúedain women were taller than dwarves but not quite so tall as men, so Oosa motioned for them to bend down and a necklace of braided grass and wooden beads was fastened around each of their necks.

Now barefoot and costumed in native garb, they were led back through the village to a large hut where Anoki-Ghân awaited them. He looked them up and down and nodded his approval. He lit a small torch off the one of the taller torches staked on either side of the entrance to his hut and said, "Good. Come! We go to gathering stones!"

The light in the forest was fading as the dense canopy of branches blocked out the last rays of the sun. They followed Anoki-Ghân and Oosa on a winding path that led away from the main village. Up ahead, they began to see a faint orange glow illuminating the trunks of the trees. The path they were on took them in the direction of the glow and as they got closer, they could hear the crackle of wood burning and smell the smoke. They entered a clearing where a large fire burned in the center surrounded by a circle of river rock. Around this, there was a second circle of large, smooth white stones that stood about the height of a man's thigh, set a few feet apart from one another. Already many wild men had gathered in the clearing and were putting more wood on the fire and the flames now towered over their heads. The light set the surrounding trees aglow; a canvas on which the eerie silhouettes of giant men were cast. Poised on one side of the outer stone circle was a low rectangular-shaped dais and upon it sat a high-backed chair that faced the fire. It was made from branches held together by twisted vines; a throne perhaps?

Anoki-Ghân seated himself in the chair. The members of the scouting party were then told to kneel in a row before the stone dais. More wild men and women poured into the clearing from all directions chattering loudly and were now gathered around looking on at this surely odd spectacle. Anoki-Ghân held up one hand and everyone fell silent. He held the silence for several minutes, then he spoke one word into the darkness: "_Numa_."

From the shadows beyond the clearing, came a strange woman. She wore a headdress made from a skinned fox; its head, still intact, rested on top of her head and its paws dangled down and hung over her shoulders. Around her neck, she wore a necklace of wooden beads and boar tusks. She carried in her hands a small wooden bowl, strips of cloth, and a large knife. The four watched the Fox-Woman apprehensively; unsure of what would befall them. Suddenly, the slow beating of drums could be heard in the darkness beyond the fire's light and all of the wild men and women began to hum in unison a single low note, which only served to heighten the scouting party's anxiety. The Fox-Woman knelt before Mordren who was first in line. She motioned for him to hold out his arm, speaking to him in her native tongue. She grasped his wrist and turned his arm palm up, drawing the knife across his upper forearm just below the crook of his elbow. He hissed as the knife pierced his flesh. She held the wooden bowl under the wound and turned his arm to catch the dripping blood. The wound was not terribly deep and the blood it shed just barely covered the bottom of the small wooden bowl. Afterwards, a length of cloth was wrapped around his arm and tied off. Then, she moved on to Legolas who was next in line and repeated the process.

When the ritual had been performed on every member of the scouting party, the Fox-Woman bowed before Anoki-Ghân, offering up the bowl and the knife, then stepped back into the shadows. The drums and the humming ended with a loud boom that reverberated around the clearing, then all was silent again. Anoki-Ghân cut his own arm, adding his blood to the mixture. He held the bowl above his head and spoke words in his own tongue and the Drúedain cheered. The Fox-Woman came forth again holding a small, leafy branch, bowing before the dais, and took the bowl from Anoki-Ghân hands. The drums began again banging a low, steady beat. She stood before the fire, dipped the branch into the blood, and proceeded to sprinkle it on the fire uttering a monotone incantation. The scouting party turned around to face the fire, sitting cross-legged on the ground, and watched in morbid fascination. The rhythm of the drums increased in tempo and the Fox-Woman began undulating her body to the beat, sprinkling the blood until it was spent. Wild men jumped up on the stones of the outer circle; one man to each stone. They sat on their heels and swayed back and forth waving their arms above their heads. Other instruments joined in but the musicians who played them could not be seen; the sound came from just beyond the reaches of the firelight. She began to sing and the wild men on the rocks joined in and followed her lead. On the high notes, they would raise their hands and faces to the sky and on the low notes they bowed down towards the ground. Soon, all the Drúedain joined in. Then with a whoosh, the song was finished.

With hardly a second in between, the drums started again, this time at a frenzied pace and all the Drúedain jumped and spun and danced around the fire. A procession began to file into the clearing carrying litter after litter piled high with food; whole pit-roasted boars, deer, grouse, coneys, fish, pots of stew, bread, and platters of fruits and vegetables. Those who did not help carry the litters, carried torches, baskets, or casks of mead. The procession kept moving to the far side of the clearing away from the fire. What was once hidden in the darkness, was now illuminated by torchlight; a low stone platform with a towering polished-stone obelisk rising up in the center. Carved symbols ran vertically down each side, their meaning lost on the scouting party. One by one, the litters and baskets were unloaded on to the platform and tall torches were placed at each corner.

"Now we know what happened to all the game." Eomer whispered to his companions.

After all of the litters had been unburdened and set aside, Anoki-Ghân stood and held up his hand. As all the Drúedain were standing, Mordren, Legolas, Eomer, and Faramir stood up as well. All eyes were on him now, and he addressed his people in his native language. When he was finished, the crowd cheered and filed over to the food, and a large line began to form. Anoki-Ghân stepped down from the dais and walked up to the scouting party.

"Come, honored guests. Join us." He said clapping them on the back and urging them over the food table.

Legolas and the men picked a quiet, far off spot near the tree line and were finally able to sit down and enjoy a hearty meal at last. For the next hour or so, the crowd gorged themselves on the feast, returning for seconds and even thirds. Soon, the drumming and the dancing resumed creating such a clamor that it could be heard for miles around.

It was like nothing they had ever seen before. The masses of people gathered in tightly all around the fire. They jumped and spun to the frantic pace of the drums, weaving and wheeling around the stone fire pit, chanting loudly all the while. The roaring flames licked higher and higher sending sparks towards the sky. It was organized chaos. The Drúedain's energy was infectious and the scouting party, now being completely immersed in the Drúedain culture, found themselves letting go of their own identities just a bit and getting lost in the experience. They joined in and danced around the fire as one of them. Even Mordren was able to put his angst-ridden thoughts to rest for a while and halfway enjoy himself.

The celebration went on well into the night, however, the exertion was beginning to take its toll. The meal was a good start, but they had not fully recovered from their journey yet, and their stamina was no match for the Drúedain's. They retreated, panting and out of breath, to the food table for a second helping to try and recover some of their strength. Only Legolas seemed to be unaffected physically; the last time the men saw him anyway - he had disappeared some time ago and had not returned. They finally found him sitting on the ground in the shadows on the outskirts of the outer stone circle with a half-empty plate on his lap.

"So, this is where you went off to." Faramir said to him. "I thought Elves had far more endurance than Men and yet while we are all dancing, here you are resting! I would think you would have outlasted us all! Are Elves not known for their fondness of festivals and merrymaking?" He teased.

Legolas stared at his plate pushing the bones around with his knife and did not look up.

"Aye, we are," he said, with a heavy sigh and a slight edge of sadness to his voice, "but cause to celebrate lessens year by year as more Elves sail on to Valinor."

The men flopped down on the ground next to him, groaning and sighing.

"Anyway," Legolas continued, "I did not come here because I required rest. I simply desired some solitude. It was bordering on madness near the fire. I could not even hear my own thoughts."

"Who wants to think? I for one have welcomed the reprieve from my thoughts, if only for a moment." Mordren said darkly.

In truth, being the only Elf in and amongst Men and the Drúedain left Legolas suddenly feeling a bit out of place. He longed to be with his own kind again. He missed his home in the Elf Colony. He missed the tranquility it afforded and the satisfaction of rebuilding and rejuvenating the lands there around, but these thoughts only led to thoughts of Jordan. He had promised her that one day he would take her to the Elf Colony. He knew if she saw it, she would fall in love with it instantly. Now, it might not come to be. He had wandered away from the crowd so that he might try to reach out to her in his thoughts, however, when he did so, he felt anxious and restless. He did not know what to make of it. Was it instinct telling him she was no longer here in Middle-earth or was it only the fear of it? It was disconcerting to be so uncertain of himself. No matter how hard he thought of her, those feeling were all that surfaced. There were other nights, out on the plains, that he thought he had made some sort of emotional connection with her, like the night he heard her singing. But it was the last time he had felt her presence. Perhaps what he had sensed was only the shadow of her _feä_; a remnant that remained from memories. He was anxious to return to the city to find out; but at the same time dreaded the answer. If in fact she was gone, he could at least begin to put it behind him and move on, but right now, he was trapped in this perpetual state of unknowing.

"Now that I sit here, I think I grow weary of the noise and the festivities. Perhaps we should think about finding a quiet place to bed down for the night." Eomer said.

"I will go see what Anoki-Ghân can offer us in the way of accommodations." Mordren said.

--

Mordren found Anoki-Ghân sitting by the fire, singing and furiously slapping his thigh to the beat of the drums with one hand and waving his mug in the air with the other.

Mordren tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention because to simply speak his name would have been useless amidst the ruckus.

"Anoki-Ghân, on behalf of the group, I would like to thank you for your generosity in sharing this feast with us." Mordren shouted.

"You are welcome Son of stone-houses!" He said as he touched his brow with his fingers and bowed. Then he turned his mug upside down and a few drops trickled out. "Cup is empty. Come!" He said, slapping him on the shoulder. "Let us have another mug of mead!"

"Oh no, Anoki-Ghân, I could not possibly!" He put his hands over his stomach. "Too full! No more. Thank you though. However, there is something I would like to speak to you about." He shouted into Anoki-Ghân's ear. He led Mordren away from the fire so that they could hear each other better.

"My men are weary and would like to retire for the evening. Is there a place where we can set up camp?"

"Yes, yes. Anoki-Ghân understand. I will send Oosa to you. She will show the way."

"Thank you. Oh, Anoki-Ghân, one more thing?"

"Yes?"

"Oosa said something when she led us to the bathing pool I did not understand; well, I did not understand any of it, but she said to us, '_Uktsu-boes te gana.'_" He said, trying to pronounce the foreign words the best he could.

Anoki-Ghân looked at Mordren blankly for a second, then burst into bellowing laughter, repeatedly slapping his leg.

"Well, what does it mean? What did she say?"

Anoki-Ghân could barely get the words out. "She say… you all smell like boar." Then he roared in laughter again.

Mordren cringed in mortification. "Uh huh. That is what I thought." He said and walked away, still hearing Anoki-Ghân's laughter in the distance.

--

Oosa found the group sitting on the outskirts of the stone circle and beckoned then to follow her. She led them down the trail away from the clearing back to the village. In stark contrast to this afternoon, the village was quiet and in the darkness, countless pinpoints of light flickered like stars in the night sky from the torches that burned outside of every hut. She stopped at a darkened hut, lit the tall torches outside of it, then lifted the flap and slipped inside. She lit a candle on a small wooden table and came back outside again. She bowed quickly, motioned for them to enter, and left in the direction they had come. The circular hut was spacious but with a low ceiling and as they were taller than the Drúedain, they had to stoop. Lining the walls were four small cots. A pile of blankets and pillows lay on one and stacks of clothing lay on another. They were relieved to discover it was _their_ clothing which had been washed and neatly folded; another kind and unexpected gesture from the Drúedain. As well, they found their weapons leaning against the wall between two of the cots. In silence, they quickly changed back into their old clothes. Eomer passed out the blankets and pillows and they each picked a cot, laid down, and fell into a deep sleep.

--

In the early morning, the scouting party awoke to shouting and a great clamor outside their hut. They jumped up and hurried outside to see what was going on. The Drúedain were scrambling everywhere; the women fleeing, the men rushing to the center of the village. It was utter chaos. Mordren stopped one of the villagers, grabbing him by the arm as he ran past.

"What is going on?"

Frantically, he began to speak in his native tongue, making wild hand gestures. They understood none of it but the last word: Orcs. They dashed back inside the hut, grabbed their weapons and ran towards the center of the village. For good or for ill, they no longer had to seek out the enemy. The enemy, it seemed, had come to them.

They found Anoki-Ghân and a host of Drúedain warriors armed with bows gathered in the middle of the village.

"Anoki-Ghân! What is happening?" Legolas asked.

"Many Orc-folk have crossed border and come this way. They come soon, over that ridge." He said pointing into the distance.

"I thought your borders were protected!" Eomer said.

"They were. Poison dart have little effect on Orc-folk. Most of Drúedain guards killed but some got away to warn us. They know paths and run fast."

"How much time do we have?" Mordren interjected suddenly.

"If Orc-folk cut across forest, underbrush will slow their progress. Ten minutes, I say."

"The village is empty, right? The women and children are safe?"

"Yes, yes."

"Good. Have your men follow me."

The village sat in a slight depression and was flanked on two sides by low ridges; one to the north, the direction in which the Orcs would arrive, and one to the east just before the river. Mordren led them to the top of the eastern ridge above the river. From there, they had a good vantage of the village below and the northern ridge in the distance. Mordren quickly assessed the ridge.

"Anoki-Ghân, call over ten of your best archers. Hurry."

While Anoki-Ghân spoke to his men, Mordren called Legolas to him.

"Legolas, I am giving you ten Drúedain archers. Take them and position yourselves behind the trees on the ridge line and take aim down at the village." He said, then pointed out the trees. When I give you the word, signal your archers to fire on the Orcs in the village."

Anoki-Ghân returned with his ten archers and Mordren explained to him what he had just told Legolas.

"Tell the archers to watch for Legolas' signal and tell the rest of your men to go down towards the river and lay low. Go!"

The entire army of Drúedain warriors hid in the brush, laying on their bellies on the river side of the ridge. Mordren, Eomer, Faramir, and Anoki-Ghân kept watch on the crest, spying through the foliage.

The Orcs would pour into the village and find it empty. It was hoped that in their confusion, they would divide their forces and search the village. At this moment, the Drúedain would strike from above, sending a volley of arrows raining down on the unsuspecting Orcs. This strategy would not alleviate the necessity to engage the Orcs on the ground but it was Mordren's hope that, from the ridge, they could pick off as many of them as possible beforehand, giving the Drúedain an advantage.

Just as Anoki-Ghân said, the Orcs came marching over the northern ridge, cutting down every living thing in their path. They stormed through the village, smashing through huts and kicking over fire pits but not a living soul did they find. It did not all go according to plan. The Orcs did not separate as much as Mordren hoped. He gave the order for Legolas and the Drúedain archers to fire and they let loose a barrage of arrows with deadly accuracy. The Orcs regrouped and began to fire back in their direction sooner than expected, taking out two of the Drúedain archers. Anoki-Ghân signaled his men and they sprang up over the ridge. Forming a human wall, they rushed the village through a hail of screaming arrows. Their animalistic battle cry echoed through the forest and would have intimidated the bravest man, but the Orcs stood their ground and the two parties clashed together with a sickening crunch and the clanging of metal on metal.

The battle waged on for hours. Heavy injuries were sustained on both sides. Every member of the scouting party had been wounded in some way, but not so terribly as of yet to be anything more than a nuisance. An Orc's arrow barely missed Legolas, whizzing by his face and cutting him on the cheek. Another's sword caught his upper arm, slicing through his tunic, and left a good-sized cut in its wake. The sleeve of his tunic was now soaked in blood. Faramir had also received a nasty gash to his side from an Orc blade. Eomer had taken a blow to the head from the hilt of a sword. Mordren, however, had fared a bit poorer. He had blocked the swing of a club with his arm and the bones shattered, rendering it useless, but still he fought on. He had just cut down another Orc and quickly glanced around, ready for the next onslaught. He saw an Orc with his bow trained on Legolas as his back was turned, dispatching another attacker. He looked to Legolas, then at the Orc about to shoot.

"Legolas!" He screamed.

From where Mordren stood, Legolas was only about ten feet away. He ran as fast as he could and shoved Legolas out of the way as the Orc shot and the arrow pierced through Mordren's neck. From the ground, Legolas threw one of his knives at the Orc who fired the arrow hitting him in the center of his chest. He scrambled to his knees and stumbled over to Mordren who had collapsed onto the ground. He was still alive but would only be for mere minutes. Legolas put his hand on Mordren's head.

"Thank you, my friend. Be at peace." He said and ran back into the fray.

As Mordren lay dying, he thought the brief, last thoughts of his life. No one would ever know what he did that evening in the burned-out remains of that village, no one would ever know Rory's fate. In the days that ensued, he never found a way to forgive himself. But on this day, he willingly sacrificed himself so that Legolas may live. A life for a life. He knew it was his penance to pay, his atonement, and in death, he finally was able to make his peace. So passed Mordren, son of Malchian, captain of the Gondorian army.

Although the Drúedain were greatly outnumbered, they had one advantage the Orcs did not – this was their home and they would protect it at any cost. They fought fiercely and bravely and in the end forty-three Drúedain men and one Gondorian captain were lost but _all_ of the Orcs who invaded the village that day would not be returning home.

--

Legolas, Faramir, and Eomer spent the next five days helping the Drúedain dispose of the Orc carcasses, bury their dead, and repair some of the damage done to the village. It was debated whether or not to bury Mordren with the men he so bravely fought side-by-side with or carry his body to Minas Tirith. No matter what deeds he had done in life, known or unknown, he was the hailed captain of the Gondorian army and his rank entitled him to a stately burial, but in the end it was decided for practicality's sake he would be laid to rest in the Drúadan Forest. Simply, too much time had passed since his death.

The rebuilding of the village would continue on for many months; much had been destroyed, but the Drúedain could manage now. The wounds the scouting party suffered in battle were beginning to heal. The time had come for them to return to Minas Tirith.

Elvish translations:

_Feä, (pl) Feär: _Soul or spirit

Drúedain translations and pronunciations:

_No-bo eska han! Turé : _Go-you bring water! Hurry!

No bow **ess**-kuh hahn **Tyoor**-ay

_Din: _Wash!

(Rhymes with pin)

_Uktsu-boes te gana: _Smell-you (pl) like boar.

**Yooked**-sue bows tuh **gah**-nuh

_Chaka hamat: _Much better.

**Cha**-kuh **Ha**-maht (rhymes with caught)

_Numa:_ Begin.

**Noo-**ma


	22. While You Lay Sleeping

**

* * *

**

Chapter 20 - While You Lay Sleeping

On their last evening with the Drúedain, the scouting party was invited to attend a small feast to honor the dead. It was also the village's final farewell to the _yeebo wenas_ or tall strangers as they were amusingly called. Certainly, they were no longer strangers. Many of the villagers had come to know and respect them as they had fought and bled side-by-side, but the moniker had stuck. In contrast to the boisterous and lively demonstration they partook of when they first arrived in the Drúadan forest, this was a much more solemn affair with mournful songs and tales of remembrance. As they sat at the high table along with Anoki-Ghân and his family, they were approached by many of the villagers who adorned them with garlands made of pressed leaves, dried berries, and wooden beads and gave them gifts of small hand-carved likenesses of animals. Legolas, Faramir, and Eomer were once again amazed at the people's graciousness and willingness to share despite having so little.

At sunrise, Anoki-Ghân and a few of his men accompanied the scouting party to the Stonewain Valley. Once they had reached the border, Anoki-Ghân gave them one last parting gift of dried meat and biscuits in a bundle of cloth for the journey home.

"Farewell, Anoki-Ghân. We will not forget you, nor the kindness of your people." Legolas said.

"No, it is I who thank all of you. You are not Drúedain. Your ways not our ways. Yet you all defend village as if your own. Your blood you have spilled upon this land and so a part of it you are forever. Always are you welcome in forest." He replied.

He bowed down and touched his brow to the ground before them and his men followed his lead. Legolas, Faramir, and Eomer bowed in return.

* * *

They had suffered much over the preceding weeks, but as they traveled now through the Stonewain Valley, their hearts were lightened and their pace swift, so eager were they to return to the city. By noon, they had reached the Grey Woods at the mouth of the Stonewain Valley. The Pelennor fields stretched out before them and in the distance Minas Tirith rose up like a gleaming white spike against the dull gray rock, a beacon of encouragement. They were almost there.

(To hear accompanying soundtrack, visit elvenladyofithilien dot com)

Despite their exhaustion, immense relief was felt by all as they passed through the Great Gate, however, their return was bittersweet. They were, after all, the bringers of sad tidings. Their deeds would have warranted them a hero's welcome, but they received no more than a few passing glances as they slipped through the city, for there were none who knew of them. Their mission had been carried out in secret and so it would remain. Ascending the city levels seemed to them now as the longest part of the journey thus far and for Legolas, the anticipation grew with every step. Would he find her here? Would she still desire him after his callous departing words? He tried to put it out of his mind, concentrating instead on the first task at hand, however unpleasant it was. They must now tell Mariwen that her husband, Firindor, is dead. The responsibility would have fallen to Mordren as he was Firindor's commanding officer, but as he was now gone too, the task was left to Legolas, Eomer, and Faramir as Firindor's companions.

"Is it me or do these roads seem steeper than when we last walked them?" Faramir asked.

"Nay. I feel it too. It is as if someone has tipped the very foundation of the city to our disadvantage." Legolas said.

Finally passing through the gate to the sixth level, they approached the Houses of Healing with increasing dread. All three of them felt terribly heartsick for the poor young woman even before they broke the news. Legolas gazed further up the street and suddenly felt a twinge go through his core that took his breath away. He saw a woman walking towards the seventh level gate that looked like Jordan. She walked with no cane, which led Legolas to believe he was mistaken, but while he watched her, he perceived the slightest limp as she walked. He ran a few steps towards her then stopped, leaving Eomer and Faramir to wonder what he was up to.

"Jordan?" He called out.

The woman stopped and slowly turned around. Legolas' heart leapt into his throat. It was her! She hadn't left the city after all!

"Legolas? Oh my gosh, Legolas!" She cried.

She ran towards him and he ran towards her as well, but each stopped just short of the other. Now face to face, their hearts ran the full spectrum of emotions. They stared at each other apprehensively, breathlessly; neither of them able to speak.

"I thought you had left. I thought I would never see you again." He finally choked out.

"I know. I'm sorry Legolas. I'm so sorry."

Her whole body began to tremble; no longer able to contain her emotions, and they came bursting forth like a river that had breeched its dam. He closed the distance and swept her up in an embrace. He let out a sigh of relief and buried his face in her hair, hugging her tightly. She choked back a sob and tears ran down her cheeks as she clung to him, wetting his tunic.

"Shh. It is alright now." He whispered soothingly as he held her.

"I never wanted to hurt you. I was just so scared. Tell me its not too late for us?" She sobbed.

"Only when you or I no longer draw breath, would it be too late." He pulled back a little and lifted her quivering chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. "You are here as am I. There is nothing to stand in our way now."

Jordan felt a stab of fear through her chest and she hugged him tighter. If only she could be so certain. He might think differently after hearing what she had to say but this was not the time nor place to bare her soul, so for the time being, she let herself just enjoy the feeling of his arms around her.

They stood in the middle of the road holding on to each other without a care of what was going on around them. Oh, how he wanted to tell her he loved her right then and there but he held back. Declaring your love to another for the first time should be a sacred moment and deserved a more fitting venue than a city street.

When her tears subsided, she pulled away and let her eyes drink in the sight of him. Her eyes wandered from the healing cut on his cheek, over to the tear in the arm of his tunic revealing the bandage underneath, and down to the dark stain of blood on the sleeve. She reached up with a shaking hand and gently touched the thin red line that marred his beautiful face. It broke her heart to see the injuries he had suffered.

"You're hurt." She said, barely more than a whisper.

He shook his head. "A few scratches, 'tis nothing to worry about."

She clung to him again and laid her head on his chest for a moment, then looked up and said, "I know you have just arrived but there is something I have to tell you. It cannot wait. Can we go someplace quiet to talk?"

A look of concern crossed Legolas' face but before he could answer, Eomer and Faramir came walking up, having grown rather impatient waiting for him on the side of the road.

"I am sorry to interrupt your reunion, but I have a wife that I would like to be reunited with as well. Can we please just get this over with?" Faramir said.

Legolas sighed and released Jordan from his arms. She looked to Faramir then to Legolas.

"What is he talking about?"

"There is something we must do…" Legolas said.

"What is it? I'll go with you."

"No!" He said a little more forcefully than he meant to, then softened his voice. "No. I do not want you to have to bear witness to it…_please_." He implored her. He took her hands and brought one to his lips. "Wait for me here. I shall return as quickly as I can."

"Uh, okay, sure." She said, somewhat confused.

She watched with curiosity as they walked towards the Houses of Healing and went inside, wondering what this task was that she should not witness. A few moments later, she heard muffled shrieking and the words 'no, no' over and over again coming from within the building. It sounded like Mariwen. Jordan ran as fast as she could, flying through the doorway, taking no notice of Legolas, Faramir, and Eomer standing there. Her eyes immediately went to Mariwen on her knees rocking and weeping; Astrid standing over her with a hand on her shoulder. Jordan fell to her knees beside her and grabbed Mariwen's hands.

"What happened? What happened?" Jordan shouted.

"Firindor is gone! He's dead!" Mariwen sobbed.

She knew Firindor was Mariwen's husband and that he was a Gondorian soldier, but that was all. Mariwen did not speak of him often. She shot a glance at Legolas, trying to make sense of the situation.

"Was he with the scouting party?" Jordan asked.

"Yes." She squeaked.

"Oh dear God. Oh, sweetie, I'm so sorry." She said and threw her arms around her, crying her own tears for her friend's agony. She sat on the stone floor and held Mariwen as she sobbed hysterically, rocking her and stroking her hair.

As there was nothing they could do to help the woman, Faramir and Eomer slipped out the door. Only Legolas remained, standing quietly to the side, waiting for Jordan.

"Come on, honey. You can't stay here on the floor. Astrid, help me."

Together, they lifted Mariwen's limp, uncooperative body, guided her over to one of the beds, and laid her down.

"Get her something to make her sleep, the strongest thing you've got." Jordan whispered to Astrid.

Jordan sat on the floor next to the bed holding her hand and murmured words of comfort. Astrid returned shortly with a cup of herb-laced tea and while Jordan sat Mariwen up, Astrid coaxed her to drink the concoction. She had finally exhausted herself from sobbing, becoming listless and despondent as she retreated within herself to try and escape the pain. They laid Mariwen back down, and Jordan glanced over at Legolas who was still waiting patiently by the door.

"Can you handle this for a moment? I'll be right back." Jordan said to Astrid.

"Yes. Go ahead. We'll be just fine, won't we? She said soothingly to Mariwen, petting her hand.

Jordan walked over to Legolas who stood with his arms folded across his chest, watching her intently as she came towards him. His face was masked by a look of expressionless calm and Jordan could not tell by it if he was angry or not.

"I'm sorry Legolas. I know you told me to wait outside but…"

"Please, do not apologize. I simply wanted to spare you the sight of another's suffering. I did not realize you knew her."

"I've spent a lot of time here while you were gone and we became friends. I know I said I wanted to talk to you and I still do, but I don't want to leave Mariwen until at least I know she'll sleep for awhile."

He tucked an unruly strand of her hair behind her ear. "I understand. Take as much time as you need to attend to your friend. I will use the opportunity to bathe and change. When you are ready, come to me in my quarters."

"Okay. Thank you, Legolas."

She gave him a quick hug and returned to Mariwen's side.

Jordan took a cool cloth and wiped Mariwen's tear-stained face as she sang a quiet song to sooth her. It was not long before Mariwen was asleep; a brief reprieve from her pain. Jordan walked slowly back to her quarters with conflicting emotions. She could not deny how happy and relieved she was that Legolas had returned even while her friend grieved. As Jordan rejoiced, Mariwen faced a long, hard road of despair and uncertainty. Legolas had been injured which meant at some point his life could have been in danger as well. How easily their positions could have been reversed. She tried not to dwell on it.

* * *

Back in her quarters, she quickly brushed her hair and checked her appearance in the mirror. She was growing nervous now. How would Legolas react to what she was about to tell him? She said a quick prayer for strength and courage, slipped out of her quarters and knocked on the door to his quarters. It opened so quickly, as if he were waiting right on the other side, it startled her, but as before, his expression gave nothing away as to his state of mind.

"Hello." She said.

"Hello. Come in."

He closed the door behind her and without warning grabbed her and kissed her ferociously as if he were dying of thirst and her lips alone could slake his need. Startled at first, she stiffened but quickly relaxed into him and slid her hands around to his shoulder blades digging her fingers into them. She began to kiss him back harder, matching his intensity. He knotted his fingers in her hair, preventing her from pulling away as his tongue sough entrance to her warm mouth. She parted her lips and tasted his tongue with her own. Their tongues swirled and dueled while their lips crushed against each other, bruising the tender flesh. They parted only for need of air; gasping, chests heaving. Jordan's head was spinning from the headiness of their kiss. He had kissed her before but never like this; never with such animalistic desire, the thought of which made her blush. Legolas pressed his forehead against hers, panting, trying to catch his breath. She could smell the mixture of his freshly bathed skin with just a hint of sandalwood and rain on a summer's evening. She closed her eyes and inhaled the intoxicating scent.

"Wow." She whispered breathlessly.

Legolas chuckled softly. "I have waited so long to do that. I have missed you."

"I've missed you too, Legolas."

He led her to the couch and motioned for her to sit down, then sat next to her.

"I meant to say this earlier but I noticed you are walking without the aid of your cane. Has your leg healed?"

"Well, its not _fully_ healed but it is strong enough to support my weight. I worked on rehabilitating it every day you were gone to keep myself busy."

He took her hand and pressed his lips to it, then smiled.

"I am happy for you. Now you can put the dark times of your arrival behind you."

He said nothing more but looked to her expectantly, waiting for her to speak and she smiled back nervously. She was suddenly self-conscious with her hair disheveled and her cheeks flushed and burning from the passion of their kiss. How do you follow something like that? She had hoped she could just come out with what she needed to say, unflinchingly and without hesitation, but now that she sat face to face with Legolas, she had no idea of how to begin.

"Would you like some wine?" He asked, breaking the silence.

"Yes!" She blurted out a bit too eagerly owing to her nervousness.

'_Wine, yes wine is good.'_

While Legolas was across the room with his back turned opening the bottle, she sagged, allowing herself to breath again. He carried two goblets over, offering one to her. She finally dared to look up into his eyes and accept the goblet.

"Thank you."

Legolas sat back down on the couch, leaning back deeply into the cushions. He put one arm behind his head, resting his head against his hand, and sighed contently.

"How is Mariwen?" He asked.

Jordan took a sip of her wine. "Not well. She is taking this very hard." After a pause, she asked, "What happened out there Legolas?"

Legolas briefly explained the events leading up to Firindor's death, keeping the gruesome details to a minimum.

"So, it was really nothing more than a tragic misunderstanding."

"I am afraid so."

"Oh, that's terrible!"

Jordan stared down into her wine goblet, swirling the red liquid, as her eyes began to tear up. It was strange how quickly life could change. One action…one decision…one misstep is sometimes all it took to irrevocably transform your life or the lives of the people around you into something unrecognizable. It was something she knew all too well in her line of work, but had allowed herself to forget.

Legolas noticed the change in her demeanor. He leaned forward and put his hand on her shoulder.

"What is it?" He asked gently.

The tears she tried to fight back came spilling down her cheeks.

"What if you would have walked into that building? It could have been you instead of..."

Legolas stopped her. "No." He shook his head. "No. Elven senses are much keener than a man's. I would have sensed him long before Firindor did."

"But you are injured, so you were obviously in some sort of danger."

"Yes, Jordan. We were forced to engage in battle, " He would not tell her how close he came to death and how Mordren saved his life, "but it is over now. The Orcs were slaughtered and I am whole and well. You must understand, I have trained in the art of warfare longer than many of the lives of men. Dying in battle will not be my fate."

"I know you are skilled, Legolas, but I still worry about you. I am not used to this sort of thing."

"Well, if it is any comfort to you, I do not imagine there will be many more battles ahead. Aragorn has united the lands, made peace with Gondor's enemies, and stanched those who would oppose him. This little Orc rebellion was simply a minor disturbance, but they are destroyed now. So, you see?" He stroked her hair gently. "There is no more cause for worry. Beside it is my duty to protect _you_, not the other way around." After a pause, he said, "Now, what was it that you wanted to tell me?"

Jordan took a deep breath, fighting to maintain her composure. This was it - the moment of truth.

"I wanted to explain to you the reason I was going to leave."

"It matters not why you were going to leave. All that matters to me is that you did not."

"No, Legolas. You need to know, before we go any further. It might affect the way you feel about me."

"Do you not understand by now?" He cupped her chin with his hand and looked into her eyes. "I have given my heart to you. It cannot be undone and nothing you could say or do could make it so."

"Please, Legolas." She begged him. "Let me say this before you speak another word."

He furrowed his brows in concern but nodded his head, allowing her to continue. She covered her face with her hands briefly, then shook her hands out, exhaling heavily.

"Okay, okay." She said underneath her breath.

It was clear to Legolas that Jordan was very nervous, so he took her hand to lend support and waited patiently. Her heart was racing and she had to force herself to speak.

'_Just start talking, Jordan. Say something, anything.'_

"You have to understand the idea of becoming close to someone…of falling in love with someone…scares me to death. But no matter how hard I tried to prevent it, I still found myself drawn to you and the more time we spent together, the more I came to care about you. You are so unlike anyone I've ever met; so unlike the men in _my_ world," she brushed her hand against his cheek and smiled, "so brave and honorable and kind. It is true what I said to you that night in the garden, I _don't_ feel like I belong here, but it is in the times we are together that I lose myself, and it doesn't matter where I am just as long as I am with you. Before, I closed myself off from everyone, refusing to feel, barely existing, never really living. You made me feel alive again. I could laugh again. I felt safe with you. The way you looked at me; your gentle touch, your kiss; it made me feel…desirable. I had forgotten what it felt like to be desired, to be cared for, and it felt good. You gave me hope that there was a better life to be had and I wanted it; I wanted it so badly. No matter how frightened I was to risk my heart or frightened about what the future holds for us, a life lived _without_ you, either in my world or yours, was the most frightening prospect of all. So I had to try, even though I knew I could lose you"

"Why would you think you could lose me?" He asked, somewhat taken aback. "I know my parting words were not very sympathetic but they were spoken out of anger. You must know I did not mean them."

"Oh Legolas, I know. It's not that. I know what it means for you to be with a mortal and how much you will suffer after I am gone. I know you said you were willing to accept such a fate but I couldn't let you do that, not without knowing _everything_ about the one your sacrifice was for, and I was too afraid to tell you."

Legolas took her hand. "You know there is _nothing _that you cannot speak to me about. Have I not given you enough cause to trust me? Am I not fair and reasonable?"

"You are." She sighed. "I just assumed once you knew, you would no longer want me."

"It is not that simple, Jordan. Elven hearts are not fickle. I could never just disregard my feelings for you no matter what the issue." He said.

"But it goes against the custom of your people."

"I have always understood there are differences between our cultures and was I willing to accept that. Had I not been willing, I would have never allowed our association to move beyond the boundaries of friendship. Now, let us bring this issue to light once and for all so that we may put it to rest."

With a shaking hand, she brought her goblet to her lips and took a sip of wine for courage.

"Um…back home, there was a man I worked with at the hospital. His name was Christian. We became friends and eventually fell in love."

It would have been foolish for Legolas to think there were no other loves before him. In their short lives, mortals were compelled to seek a mate early on. It was the natural course of things, but it pained Legolas' heart just the same.

"Our relationship lasted for several years and in the time I was with him," she paused, swallowing a lump in her throat, "I shared myself with him. My body is no longer pure."

Her heart was pounding and she held her breath, waiting for his response.

"Oh, I see." He said quietly. After a long pause, he finally spoke again. "Well…I cannot say I am not somewhat disappointed to learn this…_only_ for the reason that if one day we should marry, our physical union will not be a new and wondrous experience for both of us, but as I told you before, nothing can change the way I feel about you."

Jordan let out a huge sigh of relief and began to tremble. She squeezed her eyes shut and tears leaked out from underneath her eyelids and slid down her cheeks.

"Oh, Jordan. I did not realize you had so many concerns about us. It would explain the change in your manner towards me since arriving in the city. I just wish you would have come to me sooner. Your torment _and mine_ could have ended long ago."

"I know. I made a mess of things, but I am not strong like you." She said through her tears. "I am a coward. I thought it would be for the best if I just left – before either of us became too attached. That way I would not risk the pain of rejection and you could move on and find someone else; another elf perhaps. Someone who you could spend eternity with instead of a few short years."

Legolas sighed heavily. "Perhaps the fault is mine as well. Neither one of us were as forthcoming as we should have been that night. I do not have much experience in these matters. When I discovered you were going to leave, I was angry and hurt. I did not know how to handle it, and I fear I made a very poor attempt. I became stubborn and hardhearted in response. I know you tried to tell me some of your concerns, but I was trying so hard to convince you to stay, I did not listen to your reasons for leaving. I let my thoughts become clouded by my emotions; I just could not stand the thought of you leaving." He paused and smiled, brushing a tear from her cheek with his thumb. "It seems I have little control over my emotions when I am around you."

Jordan lowered her eyes and smiled back shyly.

"It is true." Legolas continued. "The pairing of an elf and a mortal is a complicated matter and not something easily entered into. Later that evening, I thought back to our argument and I realized where I had gone astray. Yes, I _do_ _believe_ we are destined by the Valar but I failed to explain how and why. I know it would seem that I am subjecting myself to the whim of the Valar simply because they asked it of me, but it does not work that way. The Valar would never force their will on anyone, but offer their grace as a gift. You see, I trust in their wisdom on such matters. They existed before the creation of Arda and are as endless as the tide. They have brought us together not because they arbitrarily decided it to be so, but because their sight is far-reaching. They saw in us a need that the other could fulfill; two halves that would someday become whole. I have searched my heart and my mind; I have given the matter careful consideration and I chose to accept their gift," he took ahold of Jordan hands and locked eyes with her, "not out of any duty or obligation, but because I love you and I am willing to face whatever fate awaits me to be by your side until the end of your days."

Jordan's heart began to race. In the back of her mind, she suspected that was how Legolas felt about her, but to actually hear him speak the words…to know that it was true was such an incredible, overwhelming feeling. She thought she would never hear those words again and it was still all a bit hard to believe. All she could do was stare at him in shock, unable to speak, barely able to breathe. Legolas was becoming more worried with each passing second that she did not respond. Tears began to stream down her cheeks again as she looked into the eyes of the beautiful Elf who loved her. She had never met a being more kind, caring, self-sacrificing, or honorable than he. He was her guardian angel when she was in danger; her devoted friend when she was in need. In truth, she had always loved him; it just took some time to recognize it.

"Jordan?" He questioned her softly.

She swallowed hard, choking back a sob. "I love you too, Legolas."

His eyes shined with unshed tears, reflecting the joy he felt in his heart. He grabbed her up in a crushing embrace. She flung her arms around him, laughing through her tears. He held her face in his hands and covered it with kisses.

"I love you, I love you." He said over and over. "By the Valar, I love you."

She stroked his hair and caressed his face, taking care not to brush over the cut on his cheek. Her heart felt like it would burst with the sheer joy and relief she felt now that she could express her affections freely.

"My beautiful Legolas, I love you too."

The world was lost to them, as he lowered his head to drink from her parted lips slowly and deeply; a kiss born of pure love. She opened her mouth further, inviting him to explore and he did so obligingly, gently teasing her mouth with his tongue. Their lips brushed against each others tenderly once more before they parted. He held her lovingly in his arms and she rested her head on his shoulder.

To her embarrassment, she desperately needed something to wipe her nose from the crying she had done. She remembered she kept the handkerchief Estë had given her tucked in her sleeve. As she dabbed her eyes and nose with it, Legolas recognized it right away as the mithril-stitched cloth Jordan had held in her hand that night.

"Where did you get that?" He asked.

"Oh this? You know, it was so strange. After you left me in the garden, I just broke down and cried, I felt so terrible for hurting you. I didn't think it was loud enough for anyone to hear but a woman came over and sat down and talked with me for awhile. She said her name was Estë. _She_ gave it to me to dry my tears. It is odd for someone to comfort a complete stranger in my world, but I just felt so at ease with her for some reason and before I knew it, I…"

Legolas' heart skipped a beat. "Stop for a moment. Did you say Estë?"

"Yes. Before I knew it, I was spilling my heart out to her. She was very kind but she said the strangest things."

"Are you _certain_ her name was Estë?"

"Yes Legolas, I am _certain_." She stress, becoming a little agitated at his questioning.

"What did she say to you?" He asked curiously.

Jordan described to Legolas their conversation in detail.

He smiled. "Those are strange words indeed."

"I was hoping I could find her again. I wanted to thank her for her kindness and return this to her." She said, holding up the handkerchief. "It looks rather special. I know you are not from here but have you heard of anyone in the city called Estë?"

Legolas smiled more radiantly than ever. "Yes, I have heard of her, but you will not find her in Minas Tirith."

He now understood the origins of strange language stitched around the handkerchief's edges and why he could not comprehend it. There was no one in Middle-earth who could.

Jordan frowned. "Well, where _can_ I find her?" She asked, growing impatient with his ambiguity. "Why are you smiling?"

"Only if she so chooses to reveal herself, will you see her again, my love. She is one of the Valar."

Her jaw dropped open. "What?"

"Estë the gentle, healer of hurts and of weariness. Grey is her raiment; and rest is her gift - to quote the old text."

Her eyes widened as the implication of this became clear. She was no less surprised than if someone told her she had been visited by an angel. Then she scrunched her face up, held her head in her hands, and groaned in embarrassment.

"You mean to tell me I cried all over one of the Valar?" She wailed which elicited a laugh from Legolas.

"Oh my love, if she is the healer of hurts and weariness, somehow I do not think you would be the first."

She let out a half sob, half laugh. Then her hand flew to cover her mouth. "Oh, no! I called them cruel! I didn't know!"

Legolas chuckled softly, took her into his arms, and kissed the top of her head.

"I think they will understand. It seems we have both found favor in the Valar's sight."

After a moment, Jordan said, "Legolas, do the Valar have…special powers?"

"I am not sure what you mean by special but they _are_ powerful. They helped shape the world you see around you."

"You know, like…magical."

"I do not know if you would call it 'magical' but they are capable of a great many things. Why do you ask?"

"Well, after Estë left, the link became disabled for a short time. Now, it's possible the link is simply unstable, after all, it _is_ hundreds of years old. The book could have sustained damage in that time, but do you think its possible maybe Estë had something to do with it?"

"Whether the Valar would have command over something that is not of this world, I cannot say for certain, but it is possible I suppose. It would not be beyond them to manipulate certain circumstances if the need arose."

"It just seemed so coincidental, you know? With all the talk about fate and destiny, I had to question whether or not fate had somehow intervened but perhaps it was not fate at all. Perhaps it was Estë who prevented me from making such a rash decision, knowing I would regret it…and I would have, terribly, once the reality of what I had done hit me and I had to face the fact that I would never see you again. It's terrifying to think about. What I should have done when I found the book was just put it aside until I had calmed down and was able to think clearly about what really mattered to me. Anyway, whatever or _who_ever was responsible, I got that chance."

"If that is the case, then I owe her my deepest gratitude, but I am afraid we will never know for certain."

"Legolas, there is something I would like to do. Will you help me?"

"Of course I will, my love. What is it?"

"Burn the linking book."

* * *

Legolas followed her out onto their shared balcony and into her quarters. While Jordan retrieved the linking book from the drawer in the sideboard, Legolas took some kindling from the wood box next to the fireplace and lit it with one of the long matches on the mantle.

"Let the fire catch hold before you put the book in or I will need to relight it."

She opened the linking book revealing a clear image of the D'ni city and showed it to Legolas.

"It's too bad the link was destroyed on that side. I would have loved to show you the D'ni city and the Garden Ages."

"How can you be sure it is?"

"Dr. Watson gave me his word and I trust in it."

Once the kindling had mostly become consumed by the flames, Legolas said, "Alright. Whenever you are ready."

She tossed it in as carefully as she could and it immediately caught fire and burned bright and hot, hissing and popping. Legolas wrapped his arm around her shoulders and together they watched it char and turn to ash.

"There. It is done. Now I am yours forever." Jordan said.

His only response was to lean in and capture her mouth. He kissed her softly, running his hands up her back and into her hair, knotting his fingers in it. He sucked at her lips, tugging them gently, then trailed light kisses along her jaw line to her earlobe. She let her head drop back slightly, losing herself in the sensation. Legolas took advantage of the exposed curve of her neck, grazing the skin with his tongue, vowing silently to himself to leave no part untasted when the moment would finally allow. She pressed her body into his, letting out a low moan, and ran her hands over his shoulders and back, feeling the way his muscles moved underneath his tunic. The power to elicit such a reaction by his touch was a new experience for Legolas and it sent a shiver through his core. She reached up and gently tipped his head to the side, returning the favor, kissing her way up his neck, her breath cooling the moist skin where she had kissed. She pulled his head down a little closer to her reach, combing through his hair with her fingernails to sweep it out of the way, and ran her tongue along the curve of his ear to the delicately pointed tip causing him to inhale sharply.

She smiled and whispered into his ear, "Do you like that?"

"Yes." He breathed.

Jordan released Legolas' head and let her fingers slide to the small mithril clasp at his throat. She unhooked it and then the one below it, pushing open the neckline of his tunic and gently kissed the skin she had exposed. Legolas sighed and plunged his hands into her hair. Lower and lower she kissed until she reached the bottom of the opening. No one had ever before touched or kissed him this manner and he let out a low growl, nearly driven mad with desire. He pulled her upright by the arms and kissed her hard on the mouth. His hands found their way to the small of her back and pulled her body towards his forcefully. He let his lips wander down to the hollow of her neck, then along her collar bone, kissing and sucking insistently. He lowered his head a little more, his lips moving down to the neckline of her dress, just at the swell of her breasts. Jordan moaned softly and suddenly Legolas pulled away with a gasp and laid his head on her shoulder. They sagged against each other, panting and trembling.

"I'm sorry, I got a little carried away." She said finally.

"Mmm. As did I."

"Tell me again you love me."

"I love you Jordan."

Closing her eyes, she sighed contently.

"I will never tire of hearing that."

"And I will never tire of saying it."

They turned their eyes towards the fireplace and the fire had burned completely out.

"What do we do, now?" Jordan asked.

"Whatever we wish. We have our whole future ahead of us. But for now, we could retire to the balcony and finish our wine. It is a rather beautiful evening tonight; the day's warmth still lingers."

"Yes. I would like that."

They walked out on to the balcony and Legolas slipped into his quarters to retrieve their goblets, quickly refilling them before he returned. He set them both on the small table next to the chaise, then sat down beside Jordan and pulled her sideways on to his lap, cradling her. She curled up against him, rested her head in the crook of his neck, and the wine was all but forgotten. They delighted in touching and becoming familiar with the details of each other's body; the feel of her hair sliding through his fingers, the smoothness of his skin, the curve of her hip, the hollow of his neck.

"The stars are so beautiful tonight. You know I came out here every night while you were gone. I'd look out over the city as far as I could see into the darkness, when everything was quiet and no one was around. I knew you were out there somewhere and I thought…I thought maybe…" She let her voice trail off. "Well, anyway…"

"No. What were you going to say? You thought what?"

"Oh, nevermind. It's silly." She said, waving him off.

"No, playing drinking games with a Dwarf is silly."

"Playing drinkin….What?" She shook her head in bewilderment.

Legolas chuckled. "Nothing. Tell me. You thought what?"

"Well…I thought maybe if I thought of you and called out to you, that somehow you would know I am here and that somehow it would keep you safe. I would fly out across the miles in my mind and imagine I could find you out in the vast wilderness, at a little campsite underneath the trees or something, and I would reach out, hoping in some small way I could comfort you."

Legolas could only stare at her with his mouth slightly agape. So he hadn't imagined it. She had consciously reached out to him, and he had actually felt her presence.

"See? Pretty silly, huh?"

He shook himself from his thoughts. "No, no. I do not think it silly; on the contrary. I think it is a very kind and sweet gesture."

"Anyway, I was so anxious and restless waiting for you to return, it was the one thing that made me feel…connected to you." She gave a quick laugh. "I even sang you to sleep one night…even though I knew you would not hear it." She admitted sheepishly.

"Well, I would hear it now. Sing it to me."

"No!" She laughed. "No way!"

"Come now. I want to hear my song." He jabbed her playfully in the ribs and she squirmed. "Oh? What is this?"

He began to tickle her sides and she shrieked and roared with laughter, trying desperately to wiggle out of his grasp.

"No! No!" She shrieked and kicked her legs. "Ah, stop!"

"You will wake up half the city with your shrieking!"

"Then stop tickling me!" She whined.

"Sing me the song!" He commanded. Then, he stopped tickling her long enough for her to respond.

"No!" She panted raggedly, so he renewed his assault, tickling her mercilessly.

"Okay! Okay! I'll sing it. Just stop tickling me!" She squealed.

"Thank you." He said, grinning smugly.

She finally began to sing and Legolas felt like someone had stolen his breath away. It was the song he had heard that night out on the plains of Anorien. But how? She had said she felt anxious and restless which is exactly what _he_ had felt when he tried to reach out to her in his thoughts. The fact that he actually heard the song she sang to him in his mind was further proof that they shared an emotional connection on some level. Apparently somehow they had formed the beginnings of a bond between their _feär_ without a physical union. It was still very weak yet and seemed to only make itself known when strong emotions were projected, which is why he did not feel it all the time. He thought back to the emotional outbursts he experienced at the delegate's dinner and in the garden the night before he left, which was so unlike him, and now he understood. He had been experiencing _her_ emotions and they were amplifying his own and overwhelming his senses. Now that he knew what was happening, he would be better able to control it in the future and separate her emotions from his own. It was a blessing from the Valar and he silently thanked them for this wondrous gift. He knew it was difficult for Jordan to understand the ways of the Eldar and he also knew how emotionally taxing the day had been for her. He decided not to burden her just yet with this newfound realization.

"Thank you, my love, for the beautiful song. A comfort it would have been indeed." He said when she had finished.

(To hear accompanying soundtrack, visit elvenladyofithilien dot com)

Neither one spoke for a while; nothing needed to be said. It was enough just to be in each other's arms and take pleasure in the closeness they now shared. Finally, Jordan spoke.

"Legolas…when did you first realize you loved me?"

He looked down at her contently reclining on his lap and smiled, placing a kiss on her forehead.

"The night you were supposed to leave, I heard you return to your quarters. I did not know why you waited to leave but I had to see you one last time. I waited until you were asleep, then I came into your quarters. I looked down upon you and while you lay sleeping, my love, I realized I could not bear to live without you – it was _then_ I knew I loved you."

As they looked out over the city, it took on new meaning for both of them: once a place of foreboding, shadowed by pain and lingering memories of the past, was now an icon of rebirth, joy and light. They would look upon it forevermore as the place they found their one true love. For so long, she had imagined a future without companionship, without love, and yet she had come to find it with an immortal Elf in a world that was not her own – the most unexpected and impossible turn of events imaginable. But what a chance…what a destiny…because for a heart turned cold by betrayal and pain, for a heart lost and broken, there could be no redemption except by love and it was through this love that she would learn to live again.

Translations:

Elvish:

_Feär_: Souls

Drúedain:

_Yeebo Wenas_: Tall strangers


	23. Old Friends and New Beginnings

Dear readers: Hello! It has been a long time, hasn't it? Forgive me for my long absence. I'm sure some of you were thinking I had either abandoned the story or it had just come to a strange, abrupt end, but I assure you neither are the case. In writing the last four chapters, I have always had excess material to be carried over into the next chapter giving me a head start, but in chapter 20, I used up everything I had ever written. I had to start from scratch, and as I stared at the blank page, nothing would come—for weeks and weeks. I had ideas but I just couldn't find a way to convey them. I felt like somehow I had missed the mark with chapter 20. It wasn't as well received as I had hoped and my confidence was shaken. Night after night of sitting at my computer only getting a few sentences at a time, it became drudgery. It wasn't fun anymore. I had to move on to other things, because I just wasn't getting anywhere. I started playing piano again; I made a Lord of the Rings music video, but I always came back to the story. Little by little, it began to take shape but I still wasn't making any significant progress. I wanted to write, it has become a passion of mine, so I started writing a different story—one that involves Murtagh, the character from Eragon. It is much more dark and sinister story than Love's Redemption, which I suppose was fitting at the time. I am still not sure if it is something that I am going to start posting (if I do, it will have to be on AFF because the material is too dark for ), but at least I was writing again. I finally realized with Love's Redemption, that I was trying too hard. I was so worried that it would be a repeat of chapter 20, that somehow I had lost my ability to convey the story, so I agonized over every word, the tone of the character's dialog, their motivation, everything. I finally just let go and wrote. I have always known my story would be a trilogy and it seemed as though Loves' Redemption had come to a conclusion of sorts. It is well over novel length, so I decided that this would be the point at which I start the second book, Love's Awakening. The trilogy itself I have named Love's Journey. If you go to the website, you will notice there are now two linking books on the table. I haven't decided upon a look for the Love's Awakening page, so it's a little lacking. I am still working a new look for the entire website, which will take some time. For now, I am not going to post it as a separate story on FF, because there are so many who are on the list for email notification and I don't want to lose any readers. If at some point I decide to, I will give you fair warning. I want to thank everyone who has come along with me on this journey and for sticking with it and a big thank you to all who have encouraged me and left comments and feedback. Your reviews and comments are what keep me going! So without further ado, here is the first chapter of Love's Awakening...

**LOVE'S AWAKENING**

**LOVE'S JOURNEY TRILOGY**

**BOOK TWO**

* * *

**Chapter 1 – Old Friends and New Beginnings**

_Minas Tirith, Mid September, year four of the Fourth Age_

"It is late, my love. You should get some sleep."

"I know." Jordan said with a sigh. It was difficult allowing their wondrous evening come to an end but she knew sleep would soon claim her right there on his lap. "Just a few more minutes?"

Legolas smiled. "Alright then. Will you hand me my wine, please?"

Jordan leaned over, straining to reach the small side table while Legolas held her by the waist.

"Can you reach it?"

"Yep." She said with a grunt.

She handed Legolas his goblet, then took hers as well.

"To us." She said holding her goblet up and Legolas tapped his against it.

"To our love." He added.

She smiled at his words and Legolas was suddenly struck by the realization of how rarely he had seen her smile these past few months and how beautiful she was when she did so. It filled him with satisfaction to know he was partly the cause, and he cherished the gesture like a gift.

"It is nice to see you smile again."

Jordan settled back into Legolas' arms and in the shelter of the quiet darkness, they sipped their wine contently. When their goblets were empty, Legolas smiled and patted her thigh. "Up. I will come tuck you in."

Reluctantly, Jordan swung her legs around and stood up. Legolas took her hand and together they walked into her quarters. Jordan wrapped her arms around him and stood on her tiptoes trying to match his height. She brushed her lips against his, kissing him softly.

"I need to go change, I'll be right back." She murmured against Legolas' lips.

"Of course, my love."

While Jordan retreated to the bathing chamber to change into her sleeping gown, Legolas went around her quarters blowing out all of the candles save the one on the nightstand, and then turned down the coverlet for her.

When she emerged from the bathing chamber, Legolas was waiting for her beside the bed. The soft glow of the candlelight illuminated his features and glinted off his golden hair giving him an almost angelic appearance. She suddenly felt self-conscious about her _own_ appearance dressed in a rather unflattering garment that resembled something worn in the prudish Victorian era. It was the way he looked at her, however, that erased any doubts and made her feel like the most beautiful woman in the world.

After she was situated in bed, he pulled the covers over her and sat down on the edge.

"I will wake you in the morning for breakfast." Legolas said.

"Okay."

He looked down at her with a sigh and caressed her cheek with the palm of his hand. There was that smile again.

"O what dreams may come when sleep finds us, but lovers, fear not the night as love does for sweet dreams make and carries us on hastened wings unto the dawn."

As she looked up at him, it was still so surreal that this beautiful being could love her. He was an enigma; a walking contradiction—beautiful but deadly, slender and tall but incredibly powerful, a warrior and a poet, but above all else, an immortal Elf bound to love a mortal woman. It scared her, the intensity in which she loved him back. This was so different from the way she had loved Christian. It was love in its purest form, coursing through her with the force of a spring river after winter's thaw, allowing her to feel, to live, and igniting her soul. Now that she had experienced it, it was hard to believe how she ever could have denied herself this joy.

"I love you, Legolas."

"And I love you. Goodnight."

"Goodnight."

He gave her one last kiss, blew out the candle beside the bed, and slipped out of her quarters to his own, smiling to himself in the darkness.

* * *

"Jordan—"

Jordan heard a voice coming from somewhere. She rolled over with a groan, eyes still closed, straining to reach the nightstand. Another little shove and she touched the top of it, groping for the alarm clock to hit the snooze button.

"What are you looking for, my sweet? Can I get it for you?"

Jordan's eyes flew open and she flipped over to see Legolas sitting on the edge of the bed.

"Oh! Um...nothing. Old habits you know." She shook the fuzziness of sleep from her mind and smiled sheepishly. "Good morning."

"Good morning. I am sorry, I did not mean to startle you, but it is time to rise or we will miss breakfast."

She stretched out languidly and yawned. "Okay."

She took his hand and intertwined her fingers with his, taking the time to study his long, slender fingers before bringing them to her lips to kiss. "Did you sleep well?"

He leaned over her and kissed her forehead. "Aye. The most restful sleep I have had in years."

"Good." She said. "Okay. I'll get up."

She walked over to the wardrobe, took her favorite gown off the hanger, and padded off to the bathing chamber to change and wash up. Legolas watched her with fascination as she disappeared into the bathing chamber wondering what it would be like to share a home with her, when they would not have to be so reticent in manner, where they could wake up side-by-side instead of sleeping in separate quarters. The time would come; he just needed to be patient. He had waited over two-thousand years for her; he could wait a little longer.

"Alright, I'm almost ready. I just have to brush my hair." She said, sitting down at the vanity table. Legolas came up behind her and swept her hair back behind her shoulders.

"May I?" He asked, holding out his hand.

"Sure, if you want." She answered handing him the brush.

Before he began, he gathered up her hair, held it to the side, and placed kisses slowly up the back of her neck, his lips brushing against her skin with the lightest feather touch. Then he moved to her earlobe, gently nipping at it with his teeth. Goosebumps broke out all over her skin, causing an involuntary shiver. Legolas smiled to himself, feeling empowered once more by the reaction his touch elicited. Taking the brush, he picked up one section of her hair at a time, expertly working out any tangles, then made long sweeping strokes from the roots to the tips, smoothing it over with his hand after each pass.

"So, where are we eating breakfast?" Jordan asked as he brushed.

Legolas raised an eyebrow, looking at her through the mirror. "Why, the Hall of Feasts of course. Where else?"

"Oh. I don't know. I've never eaten breakfast there before."

Legolas gave a short laugh. "Well, what have you done this entire time? Gone without?"

"Eowyn and I always ate either in her room or at this tea house a couple levels down," then she thought for a moment, "oh...probably because I slept in too long."

"Hmm. Indeed." He smiled. "There." He remarked, handing the brush back to her. "I would braid it for you, but we do not have the time."

"That's okay. Thank you, Legolas." She said. She stood up and gave him a token of her appreciation in the form of a kiss.

Just as they were about to head towards the door, they heard someone knocking but not on the door to Jordan's quarters. It sounded further down the corridor—Legolas' quarters. Legolas unbolted and opened the door and together, he and Jordan stepped out into the corridor to see Faramir and Eowyn.

"There you are." Faramir said.

Legolas grinned. "Good morning Faramir, Eowyn." He said with a nod of his head.

"Good morning." Jordan said as well.

"Lead the way." Faramir said jovially, sweeping his arm out. Legolas took hold of Jordan's hand and the two proceeded down the corridor. When they passed by, Faramir and Eowyn turned to each other and smirked before falling in step behind them.

Faramir and Eowyn observed the new couple's interaction as they made their way to the Hall of Feasts and marveled at the transformation that had occurred in them. It was like seeing two completely different people. All traces of the sorrow and anguish that overshadowed them were gone. They walked arm-in-arm talking and laughing, completely at ease with one another and it was plain to see for any and all who looked upon them how in love they were.

* * *

The Hall of Feasts was filled with the buzz of quiet conversation and the inviting smells of wood smoke and fresh bread. In the center of the expansive main room stood a long table laid out with an overabundance of food, quite a bit more than was necessary for the few people in attendance. After perusing the offerings and filling their plates, the four sat down at a far, secluded table. Legolas and Jordan largely ignored their companions as they took to hand feeding each other slices of fruit, kissing in between bites. Normally, such a display of affection would have been a bit awkward, but their enthusiasm for each other was infectious. Eowyn and Faramir could not help but be reminded of themselves after Eowyn was finally able to let go of the past and open her heart to Faramir. Faramir, especially, gained a small measure of satisfaction in knowing the events he set in motion had not all been in vain.

It took Faramir clearing his throat a few times and staring in Legolas' direction before he could get the Elf's full attention.

Legolas finally turned his head to look across the table at Faramir, his eyes glazed over with passion, as a smile slowly spread across his face. "Oh, forgive me Faramir. You were saying?" He drawled lazily.

"I have not said _anything_ yet."

The corners of Jordan's mouth curled up in a self-conscious smirk. She had become so lost in Legolas that she completely forgot they were not alone.

"Now that I have your attention, is it still the plan to return to Emyn Arnen tomorrow?"

"Yes. I see no reason to stay on any further."

"We're leaving?" Jordan asked, surprised and somewhat dismayed. "Why didn't you tell me, Legolas?"

"I am sorry, my love. I did not have the chance. You do not wish to return?"

"Well, yes, it's just so sudden. We've been here for so long, I guess I'm just used to it."

"I, for one, will be glad to get back to my own bed." Eowyn said.

"Agreed." Faramir added.

Soon after, Eomer approached the table, plate in hand, and sat down next to Eowyn.

"What have I missed?" He glanced across the table at Legolas and Jordan. Having already finished their breakfast, Jordan was resting her head on Legolas' shoulder. "Much, it appears." He said with a grin.

"Will you be returning home tomorrow, Eomer?" Eowyn asked.

The smile faded from his face and he hesitated to speak. "Ah...no. I will be going on to Dol Amroth. Prince Imrahil has extended an offer for a visit and I have accepted."

"A visit to Dol Amroth? You spent nearly a week in deliberations with Imrahil and this did not fulfill your need for his company? I did not think you two were such good friends."

"Can a man not take a holiday?"

Well, it wasn't exactly a holiday. The truth of the matter was he was going to Dol Amroth to court Lothiriel, the daughter of Prince Imrahil. The two first met at Aragorn's coronation and subsequent wedding celebration in Minas Tirith and then again in Rohan when she accompanied her father for King Theoden's burial. In both instances, Eomer's duties kept them largely apart save for a few stolen moments away from prying eyes—hardly enough time to get to know one another properly. Despite this, it seemed to Eomer in the time that he spent with her that he had known her his whole life. It was like coming home.

"A holiday? Now?"

"Yes, now...before the winter arrives."

"Well, if it is a holiday you seek, you certainly have chosen a strange destination. You hate the sea." Eowyn pointed out.

"Then I will be sure to stay well on land." Eomer shrugged and began to eat his breakfast. "Eomer, how could you hate the sea? Walking barefoot on the sand, the sound of the waves crashing, I love it. It's so relaxing!" Jordan could not help but interject.

"_You _apparently have not been to Dol Amroth!" Eomer said with a laugh, looking up from his breakfast. "Prone to frequent storms, it sits high atop of a seawall and the surrounding coastline is naught but jagged rocks."

"Well, it does not sound like a very inviting place but it still does not explain why you do not like the sea."

"He nearly drowned in it." Eowyn answered for him.

"Oh my goodness! What happened?"

"Well you see, shortly after our mother passed on, my uncle sent us to stay with a distant cousin and his wife for the summer..." Eowyn began.

"Eowyn!" Eomer growled.

"What?"

"That is all anyone need know. Let the past remain in the past. Do not bore our companions with silly childhood tales."

"She asked! It would be ill-mannered of me not to answer."

"It would not bore me." Jordan said with a grin.

Eomer looked to Faramir for support.

"I have already heard the story." Faramir admitted.

"Legolas?" Eomer implored.

Legolas simply shrugged his shoulders.

"You see?" Eowyn said.

Eomer sighed resignedly and resumed eating his breakfast.

"They lived in Dol Amroth, the very city we were just discussing. We were only children at the time. We were playing amongst the rocks beside the pier with some of the local children. Eomer had been trying to play leader all day, as usual, telling everyone what to do."

Eomer looked up from his plate. "What do you mean 'as usual'? I did no such thing!" He huffed.

"Yes you did! You were insufferable! Even at home, you were a bully. When we played Dragon Slayer, _you_ always had to be the one to kill the dragon and when we played Kings and Peasants, if anyone was about to conquer your kingdom, you changed the rules, then you would declare all lands forfeit and force everyone to serve you."

Eomer smirked. "Well, that is because I was a better king."

"It was only a game!"

"Yes, a game I was better at."

Jordan was enjoying herself immensely as she listened to the siblings banter back and forth. This was a side of them she had never seen before. For the first time she saw them not as a princess and a king but simply just people. However, as they continued to argue, Jordan felt a growing discomfort pressing in around her. It was very subtle, like a nagging thought in the back of her mind, but noticeable enough to distract her from the conversation.

"The other children were becoming quite weary of his antics," Eowyn continued, "and decided they would try to put him in his place. They dared Eomer to try to swim out past the waves knowing beforehand that he would fail. They were all familiar with the strong current and the tides, but Eomer knew nothing about such things."

As she continued to listen to Eowyn's story, the strange discomfort became ever more present, almost like a weight upon her chest. Jordan reached underneath the table and took Legolas' hand for reassurance, but when she did, the feeling only got stronger, almost making her jump when she touched him. She stole a glance at Legolas and he turned and smiled at her. There was nothing in his expression or his body language that indicated he was anything but calm and contented. In fact, no one else at the table seemed to be affected either. She was beginning to think she was having some sort of anxiety attack, which was unusual since she was not prone to them nor was there anything that could have triggered it. She fought the urge to fidget and squirm in her seat so no one would notice anything was wrong, but in doing so, it was becoming harder to focus on what Eowyn was saying.

"He made a valiant effort but the water was frigid and the waves were too strong. He finally succumbed to the current and he nearly drowned but fortunately the sea spit him out on the rocks bruised, shaking, and gasping for air but otherwise no worse for the wear."

Finally, she let go of Legolas' hand and the feeling lessened and eventually faded away. Though she couldn't quite understand how or why, she got the impression Legolas was its source. What was it about the conversation that made him uncomfortable? Drowning? Or could it be the sea itself? Perhaps he did not like the sea either. However, she was fairly certain it was not a feeling of distaste, it was more like agitation and duress. She would have to remember to ask him about it later when they were alone.

"That is amazing. Eomer you were very lucky. It would not have been long before hypothermia set in." Jordan said.

"Hypothermia?" Eomer questioned with a puzzled look on his face. "What is that?"

"It is a decrease of your core body temperature from its normal level of 98.6 due to prolonged exposure to environmental factors such as immersion in cold water. It results in impaired motor function, loss of consciousness, and eventually systemic organ failure and death," was her automatic clinical answer.

Everyone stared wide-eyed at her as if she were speaking a foreign language.

"Ah...in its simplest terms, it means freezing to death." She explained.

After that, murmurs of understanding were heard around the table.

"Well, some good came from it, anyway." Eowyn continued. "After Eomer recovered, we were no longer allowed to play down by the pier, so he took to spending his time in the stables and it was then that he met Lothiriel. It was the first time I saw him smile since our father died."

A determined look fell across Eomer's face. "It was _not_ Lothiriel, it was..." His voice trailed off. Who was it? He could not remember now.

"Yes it was. She was there for riding lessons. You helped her learn how to tack up her horse. I cannot believe you do not remember."

Eomer tugged at his lower lip as he thought back. It had been so long since he had revisited memories from his youth. Suddenly it came back to him in a rush and the recognition registered in his eyes. Eowyn had been right.

"_You are doing that wrong." Eomer said from his hiding spot high atop a stack of baled hay._

_The girl threw the contraption on the ground in frustration and turned in the direction of the voice. "Who are you?"_

_Eomer scurried halfway down the hay bales then jumped the remaining distance landing with a thud on the hay-strewn floor. "My name is Eomer."_

"_Why are you hiding in the stables?"_

_He paused for a moment but did not answer. "Here, let me show you. The two straps form a 'V' down the horse's chest and the single strap goes through its legs like this and attach to the girth." He explained, connecting the breastplate with lightning efficiency._

"_I do not know why I have to learn to tack up my own horse!" She said indignantly. "There are servants to do that!" _

"_What if all of your servants are dead and you need to escape the city?"_

_She scowled at him and put her hands on her hips. "Very unlikely."_

_Eomer shrugged his shoulders. "It is still good to know."_

"_How do you know so much about horses anyway?"_

"_I have grown up around them. Horses are a way of life in my land."_

"_Where do you come from?"_

"_Rohan."_

"_I have heard of Rohan in my studies. It is the land of the Horse Lords." _

_Eomer nodded. _

"_Well, what are you doing here?" She asked, scowling again._

"_My sister and I are staying with our cousin for a time. My parents...um, they died." Eomer said quietly, dropping his gaze to the ground. _

_Her scowl changed to a sympathetic smile. "I am sorry. Truly." After a pause, she said, "My name is Lothiriel."_

_He looked up and saw her smile and at that moment, she was the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in all his twelve years._

"_Lothiriel!" A man called from opposite end of the long stables._

_Lothiriel lowered her voice to a loud whisper. "You should go. That is Erech, the trainer. Father insisted I take riding lessons." She said, rolling her eyes. _

"_I-I could help you before your next lesson." Eomer blurted out. "That is, if you would like me to." He added shyly._

_She paused to consider this, then smiled. "Thursday, same time. Now go, hurry!"_

_Eomer grinned and ran off, disappearing between the stalls._

"You remember."

"I do. You were right." Eomer said looking a bit disturbed. "It _was_ Lothiriel."

It was a time in his life he chose to block from his memory. The death of his father...his mother...being sent away from Rohan...the foolish stunt that almost took his life. Eomer spent that summer hating Theoden; even blaming him for the death of his parents. As an adult, Eomer understood now that his uncle Theoden meant well. Theoden thought it would do the children some good to get away from the place where around every corner lurked a reminder of the death of their parents, but to a twelve-year-old boy, it felt like rejection. His friendship with Lothiriel had been the one thing that brought him joy. She was a light in the darkness and he had loved her then as much as any boy could. As miserable as he had been in Dol Amroth, when summer came to a close, he did not wish to leave. Rohan no longer felt like home to him. Home was where his father and mother lived and they were no longer there. Going home not only meant having to leave one he had come to love, it meant that his childhood was over. Necessity dictated that he trade the carefree days of his youth for the sword and shield—for whom now would look after his sister if not him? In time, Theoden came to care for Eomer and Eowyn as if they were his own children. Eomer eventually was able to come to terms with his grief. He grew up strong, becoming a skilled rider and warrior. He was named Third Marshall of the Riddermark as his father before him and the painful memories of the past were locked away and forgotten. With the resurfacing of this old memory, Eomer realized why he felt so connected to Lothiriel, why she seemed so familiar. Did she remember as well?

"Whatever happened to the two of you? I though you were smitten with each other." Then Eowyn's eyes lit up and she grinned. "It is not Imrahil you go to see, is it? Lothiriel is the reason for your visit!"

Eomer looked up at his sister crossly. Sometimes her inquisitiveness could be quite trying, especially when there was something he wished to remain private.

"Yes, I am going to see Lothiriel," he admitted, "with the intent to initiate a courtship."

"Well, why did you not come out and say so? Why all the pretense?"

"Because I felt the situation needed to be approached with some discretion. It is important that I make it to Dol Amroth without delay if I am to be successful in winning her heart and I did not want anyone or anything to interfere."

"Why would anyone interfere?"

"Complications always seem to arise at the least inopportune time. When I came to Minas Tirith for a council meeting, I did not anticipate I would be hunting Orcs!"

"I suppose. What I do not understand is why you parted ways in the first place."

"She resided in Dol Amroth, I in Rohan. I had duties and responsibilities tying me to my homeland and she to hers."

"So that was it? You just gave up?"

"I suppose it _would_ be rather difficult to conduct a courtship through correspondence." Jordan said.

"Indeed." Eomer answered.

"No, no. If you love someone, you should stop at nothing to be together!" Eowyn countered. "There must have been a time when you could have broken away from your duties to see her...like now."

"I had just been crowned King of the Mark, Eowyn. I had not yet even established my rule. The country had been ravaged by the war and the people still reeling from Theoden's death. I could not leave. Anyway, it mattered not. Lothiriel did not wish it. She knew it could be years before I could turn my attention to other things and she did not want to be a distraction...nor did she want to wait. We were simply at a point in our lives where a relationship would have proven impossible. She took it as a sign that we were not meant to be, kindly rejected any further notions of such thoughts, and bid me farewell. I was disappointed to say the least but I was determined to put the whole affair behind me—and did so rather effectively for a while, that is until the delegate's meeting. To be quite honest, I was not expecting to see her here and it has been...awkward to say the least. I tried to respectfully maintain my distance and distract myself with other things but it was not until the evening spent with Jordan—and forgive me Jordan, you are a lovely woman—that I realize I would not be satisfied with anyone other than Lothiriel. I decided to make one last attempt to gain her favor, and this time, she set forth a challenge for me to prove my affections and court her formally in her homeland...where our time spent would not be interrupted."

"Oh, Eomer, I think that is wonderful! It is a strong woman indeed that could resist your passion and determination. I just know you will be successful!"

"So...I was merely a distraction eh, Eomer?" Jordan asked, feigning indignity.

Jordan's bold comment took Eomer by surprise. "Well, yes...I mean...no, no. Of course not. I just..."

Jordan laughed. "It's okay." She caressed Legolas' cheek with her hand and smiled lovingly at him before looking back at Eomer. "I think everything worked out for the best."

"My, my, Eomer. I do not think I have ever seen you at such a loss for words." Legolas joked which elicited laughter from everyone—everyone except Eomer, that is.

Eomer straightened up stoically in his chair "Yes, well..." He muttered, dismissing the charge with a wave of his hand and a toss of his golden mane, then quickly changed the subject.

"Legolas, Faramir, if you are both finished with your breakfast, we should make haste. Aragorn will be expecting us."

As they all walked outside to the courtyard, Jordan turned to Legolas and asked, "How long will you be gone?"

"A few hours I suspect. After Aragorn has been briefed, Faramir and I are going to attempt to obtain a cart. I have a feeling we will be leaving with more than what we came with."

"Is there anything I should do in the meantime to get ready?"

"You could gather your belongings; pack up anything you do not need at the moment. If there is anything you would like to procure at the market to bring back to Emyn Arnen, now would a good time to do that as well."

Jordan shrugged her shoulders. "I don't have any means to buy anything."

"I am sorry, how foolish of me. I was not thinking." Legolas stopped and reached into a pouch hanging from his belt. He produced a smaller drawstring pouch and placed it in her hand. "This should be more than enough."

She bounced it in her hand assessing its weight. It was quite heavy, filled with, she assumed, gold coins or ingots.

"Legolas, you don't have to give me this!"

"But I wish to. I love you and if there is something you desire, anything at all, I would see that you have it."

"You are very sweet, Legolas, but I don't know that there is _anything_ I need or want."

"A warm cloak perhaps? The weather will soon be getting colder. At least look around, you may find something that catches your eye."

"Legolas, are you coming?" Faramir called.

Legolas looked over and saw that the rest of the group was already halfway across the courtyard.

"I will be right there, Faramir." He called back. "I will meet you in your quarters when we are done." He then said to Jordan.

"Okay."

Legolas leaned down and kissed her, long and lingering, his tongue snaking over her lower lip before he pulled away.

"Mmm. I shall have to taste those lips again when I return." He whispered into her ear making her cheeks blush furiously.

"See you soon." She said with a hitch in her breath.

Jordan joined Eowyn by the White Tree and watched the three disappear into the Hall of Kings. Eowyn was eying her expectantly and Jordan knew what she wanted her to say.

"I take it things went well last night." Eowyn prodded.

"Yes. So how are you feeling this morning?" Jordan asked, coyly changing the subject.

"Oh, no. You are not going to get out of it that easily. I want to hear about what happened."

Jordan giggled and grabbed Eowyn's arm, pulling her towards the gate to the lower levels. "Okay. Come with me to the market and I will tell you everything."

* * *

Aragorn sat on the high throne, which he had had restored to its original design before the days of stewards. No longer was there a lower throne for the steward to occupy but instead, two high thrones that sat side by side so that his queen would have a place beside him. Today, however, that seat was empty—Arwen was not there.

"My friends! You return at last!" Aragorn said, welcoming Eomer, Legolas, and Faramir with outstretched arms. They came to stand in a line at the foot of the throne and bowed before him. Had they been anywhere else, they would not have felt it necessary to do so, but while Aragorn sat on the throne, they would give his position the proper respect. In turn, Aragorn could not possibly address his friends looking down upon them from the high throne, even though it was his right and was to be expected. He stepped down from the throne to their level and said, "Come. Let us speak in private."

He led them down a long corridor and into the chamber of the High Council, the place where they had spent much time debating the trade agreement, and closed the door behind them. The spacious room was lined floor to ceiling on two sides with bookshelves; on the other walls hung various displays of weapons. To one side, stood a large wooden table with some maps spread out upon it and in the corner hung a heavy velvet curtain concealing an entrance to another room, but perhaps the most striking feature of the room was the enormous mosaic of painted tiles on the floor creating a map of the known world.

"Please sit." Aragorn said, motioning to the chairs lining the large table. After everyone was seated, he looked around the room. "Where are Mordren and Firindor? Why have they not come?"

"They are dead." Legolas answered matter-of-factly.

"What? How?"

"Mordren was cut down by an Orc blade defending my life."

"You were ordered not to engage the Orcs in battle!"

"They attacked a Drúedain village. We could not idly stand by and let them be slaughtered."

"The Drúedain?" Aragorn asked incredulously. "You know that to enter the Drúedain Forest is forbidden!"

"And we would not of if our situation had not been so dire. We were in desperate need of food and water which they graciously provided." Legolas answered.

"But not before shooting us with poisoned darts and dragging us into their village." Faramir added bitterly.

"Poisoned darts?"

"A most disagreeable experience." Eomer added as well.

"While we took shelter with the Drúedain, the Orcs attacked their village unprovoked. They would have been quickly overpowered had we not helped them." Legolas said.

"Well, what was the outcome of the battle?" Aragorn asked.

"The Orc-party was decimated. The threat is no more."

"Well, at least some good came from it but I do not understand why Mordren did not abort the mission when he knew supplies were low."

"Firindor, among others, tried to convince him to, but he would not hear of it." Faramir said.

"Show me your route on the map." Aragorn demanded, pointing to the map laid out on the table.

"The soldier's encampment was found here." Legolas pointed to a section of foothills near the White Mountains. "From there, we followed the Orc trail northeast into the plains of Anorien." He said, drawing a line across the map.

"Mordren would know of a small village right here," Aragorn said, pointing to a spot near the Great West Road, "just a few miles off your course. It is a trading post. Why did you not stop there to replenish your food and supplies?"

"We did, though it was too late. The Orcs had burned the village."

"And the people?" Aragorn asked.

"Slaughtered."

"Save one." Eomer added. "A blind and lame boy hiding in one of the store houses. He mistook Firindor for an Orc and lunged at him with a sword, catching Firindor off guard. He was blind but somehow his sword managed to find its target. Firindor's wound was fatal. We buried him under a tree just outside the ruins of the village."

Aragorn rubbed his face with his hand and groaned. "How far had you gone before your rations had run out?"

Legolas studied the map for a moment. "It was here approximately." He said, pointing to a spot just below the foothills of the mountains.

"That is nowhere near the village!" Aragorn said angrily, slamming his fist on the table. "Had you been, I could accept his decision to keep moving. But this? This is blatant disobedience! His orders were to _only_ go as far as the food and supplies would hold out. It was by no means my intention to have you resort to survival tactics to complete the mission. If he had lived, I would have him stripped of rank!"

"Mordren may have made an error in judgment, Aragorn, but do not forget he selflessly sacrificed his life to save mine. No matter what offences he may have committed beforehand, he acted honorably when it mattered most, and for that I am grateful."

"Had he obeyed orders, none of you would have been placed in a situation such as that!"

"Yes, this is true, but then the Drúedain would be the ones who lay slaughtered, not the Orcs." Eomer said.

"Aragorn, I cannot speak for Eomer and Faramir, but I am not bitter about the course of events. It was a hardship, yes, but we have all endured worse. The loss of Firindor and Mordren are most regrettable but they died in service to their country, an honorable deed and I think what we have gained gives their deaths meaning. The Orcs have been vanquished. No more will the people of Gondor have to live in fear knowing that at any given moment, they may be attacked. As well, we have made great strides in relations with the Drúedain. I believe one day they will come out of their forest and the people of Gondor will see that they are not the savages they made them out to be. They are a culture rich with tradition and a love for family, and although they are not as advanced as other races, as a people they have much to offer."

"Spoken like a true diplomat, Legolas." Aragorn said. "I can always count on you to point out the good in any situation." He rubbed his face with his hand and sighed wearily. "Well, Mordren has no known next of kin but what of Firindor? I had not the chance to come to know him. He had not served long."

"He leaves behind a young wife. We informed her of his passing ourselves. It seemed...the right thing to do. We did not wish to wait and have rumor reach her ear." Faramir said.

"Thank you for that. I know it is not easy. How does she fare?"

"She is beside herself with grief as you can imagine."

"Any family to speak of?"

"That I do not know. She serves in the Houses of Healing."

"I will see to it that her needs are met. Now then, let me turn your attention to another matter. I am not certain if you have yet to realize, being in the wilds for so long, but tomorrow marks the beginning of _Cormarë_. I know you are all probably eager to return to your homes, but please consider staying on through the festival. It would be wonderful to have you all here."

Although Aragorn and Arwen were dear to him, Legolas was anxious to complete the work on the garden and return to his home in time for the Elves' own celebration of the coming season.

"A tempting offer indeed, Aragorn, but it would only delay the inevitable. Responsibilities beckon. I think it best if we departed as planned." Legolas said.

Faramir and Eomer, both talking over each other, quickly but politely declined as well.

"I thought you might say that. Well, if you will not do it for me, how about for some old friends?"

At that moment, the heavy curtain in the corner parted and out stepped Gimli, then Gandalf behind him.

"Gimli! Gandalf!" Legolas exclaimed.

"Aye laddie! It's good to see ya!"

"Dearest friends, at last we meet again." Gandalf said.

Aragorn took a few steps back, chuckling to himself as the reunited friends greeted each other boisterously.

"What brings you to Minas Tirith, Gandalf?" Faramir asked.

"I was in Lothlorien for a brief stay when word reached us that several parties of Orcs were seen converging on Anorien. The sense of urgency in their purpose and the quickness in their pace all led us to believe that this was not just a resettling, but a mission more sinister in nature. I came to bid Aragorn warning but as it were, he was already one step ahead. Since I was here, I though I would stay through _Cormarë_. What better place to honor Frodo than the place where his victory was hailed?"

"Indeed." Aragorn said, coming forward. "So, what say you? Will you stay?"

"An opportunity such as this may never present itself again—so many of us here in one place." Gandalf added, glancing at Aragorn knowingly.

"Perhaps I could spare a few days more." Legolas said. "Besides, I think Gimli would have my head if I refused."

"Ah, but what a pretty trophy it would be." Gimli retorted.

The whole group burst into laughter and Gandalf shook his head saying, "Some things never change."

"Well, it may take some convincing where Eowyn is concerned but I have a few methods of persuasion that may prove effective." Faramir said with a wide grin.

"Now that's the spirit, my boy!" Gimli cheered.

The group turned to Eomer who had yet to answer.

"Eomer?" Aragorn questioned.

Eomer had the look of one torn between two desires, and Legolas and Faramir knew the reason—his expected arrival in Dol Amroth. "Alright, I stay. Three days, but then I really must depart." He said.

"Excellent. It is settled then." Aragorn declared.

Never would a more unlikely group of friends be found. Most of them had never even met before the war. With the exception of Aragorn and Gandalf, they were mere strangers brought together by a common purpose, forced to set aside their differences and work together to save the world in which they lived from the shadow of evil. It was the great trial of their time, testing their strength and resolve, pushing them all well beyond the breaking point, a baptism of fire and blood. It was only when everything else was stripped away that they saw each other for who they truly were—not as men, elves, dwarves, or wizards, but people courageous in spirit, noble in deed, and goodness of heart. Together, they had endured hardship, felt the bitterness of loss and ruin, and ultimately rejoiced in victory. Whether a member of the Fellowship or no, the journey would be part of them all for the rest of their lives and out of it formed a bond between them that nothing or no one could break.

Although the order of business had been agreed upon and concluded, they lingered long into the afternoon talking of times of old and years to come. They would have been content to carry on for hours more, but there were preparations to be made for the celebration and matters that needed attending to. Aragorn reluctantly ushered his friends back to the great hall where they bid him farewell in turn, but before they went on their way, Aragorn invited them all to supper at his home that evening.

Outside in the courtyard, the sun shined blindingly against the cloudless sky; its strength nearly reaching that of a mid summer's day despite the transitioning season. The celebration of _Cormarë_ drew merchants from both far and near eager to sell their wares, and already they busied themselves erecting tables and large cook tents on the green. City-folk scurried about hanging banners and other sorts of decorations. The companions watched the flurry of activity with curiosity for there had been none there when they came to see Aragorn this morning.

They weaved their way through the bustle to the gate and down through the tunnel to the sixth level. Coming to a halt, they turned to each other, wondering where the other was going.

Gandalf cleared his throat. "Well, friends, it is here that our paths diverge. I have many things to do, many things to gather to ready my contribution to the festival. Until supper." He said with a nod of his staff. Eomer stated he needed to depart as well to draft a letter to be carried to Dol Amroth in all haste explaining his delay, leaving only Faramir, Legolas, and Gimli to remain.

The three friends strolled leisurely down the city street towards the guest quarters weaving in and out of people and carts.

"And what matter has brought you to Minas Tirith, my friend?" Legolas asked Gimli.

"Well, there is this overly-impatient princeling in Emyn Arnen somewhere waiting for a consignment of ithildin-etched stones for his garden, so I thought I would deliver them myself. But first, you know I cannot pass up a good celebration!"

This rousted a laugh from Faramir and excitement flashed in Legolas' eyes.

"You have the stones? Gimli, I cannot thank you enough! You do not know what a relief it is to hear that. Once the stones are in place, the garden will be complete and I can return to the colony."

"Are you so eager to leave us, Legolas?" Faramir asked.

"Not eager but ready. I took great pleasure in creating a thing of beauty, befitting of yours and Eowyn's great deeds. I have enjoyed cultivating the earth as well as our friendship, but I grow weary of stone walls. My heart wishes to dwell in the cool green of the forest once again."

"But what of Jordan? Her home is in Emyn Arnen for now. What if she wishes to remain with her own kind? It may be unnerving to be the only one of your kind amidst a whole village of a different race."

"It may be indeed, though you forget, Faramir, that she is neither my kinfolk _nor yours_. That is her burden to bear no matter where she chooses to reside—and wherever that may be, I will abide by her wishes."

"So you would stay in Emyn Arnen if she wished it?" Faramir asked.

"Pardon my asking, if I may be so bold, but what manner of person is this Jordan that she cannot be counted among Men or Elves?" Gimli interjected.

Legolas forgot that Gimli was not aware of Jordan's origins and he had to think quickly.

"Forgive me, Gimli, if I was not clear. I simply meant that she is not an Elf, but neither does she have any kinfolk in Gondor." He hoped his explanation would be satisfactory.

"Oh. I see." It still did not make much sense to Gimli. He had heard Faramir say her home was in Emyn Arnen and that she may wish to stay with her own kind. Emyn Arnen was a part of Gondor. And what manner of name was 'Jordan'? It sounded foreign. No matter he supposed. After all these years, the Elf was still a mystery to him.

"As I was saying, Faramir, I am hoping she will find the colony so much to her liking that she will not _mind_ living amongst the Elves."

"Your conversation has lost me. Have you married, Legolas, but neglected to inform, nay, _invite _me to the wedding?" Gimli asked.

"Gimli, you wound me! I would never cut you out of something so important, but to answer your question: no, we have yet to marry, but I am hopeful that may be soon."

"So Legolas Greenleaf has found love at last!" Gimli declared.

"I have, and in the most unlikeliest of places."

"Aye, a mortal woman, if I understood correctly?" He stated on a more serious note.

"Aye. Does that trouble you?"

Gimli exhaled with his lips pursed. "I fear the suffering you will face will be more than you can bear...but you and you alone, Master-Elf, are the designator of your own fate and I will stand beside you to whatever end."

"Thank you, Gimli. Your support means a great deal to me."

Having come to the alleyway that led to the guest quarters, they paused for a moment at the corner, uncertain if Gimli wished to follow or continue on.

"I have not spoken as much until now, but you have mine and Eowyn's as well." Faramir said.

"Thank you, Faramir. Would you like to meet her, Gimli?"

"I would consider it a privilege to meet the woman who stole the heart of our fair princeling."

"Gimli, I am older than you by far." Legolas said with a curious smile.

"I know. Lead on, Master-Elf!" Gimli exclaimed.

While Legolas and Gimli stopped in front of Jordan's room, Faramir bid them farewell and continued on to attend to Eowyn. Jordan opened the door, chastising Legolas for knocking instead of just entering, but the sight of Legolas' companion took her by surprise and she stopped mid sentence. There stood before her eyes was a stout, dark-bearded Dwarf—a stark contrast to Legolas' tall and fair form. Gimli was no less surprised, not quite knowing what to expect, and they both paused a second to stare at each other with their mouths agape.

"Oh! Hello!" She said, stepping aside so they could enter.

"Jordan, this is Gimli, a very good friend of mine. Gimli, may I introduce Jordan."

"Hello, Gimli. It's nice to meet you." She said politely, extending her hand. Gimli grasped it with his rough, pudgy fingers but did not shake it; instead, he brought it to his lips and kissed it, the coarse hairs of his beard tickling her skin. With a nod of his head and a slight bow, he said, "My lady, it is an honor to meet _you_."

"Do you live here in Minas Tirith?" Jordan asked.

"Ah, no. My home lies to the west underneath the White Mountains in the Glittering Caves."

Jordan raised an eyebrow. "_Glittering_ caves? Sounds fascinating."

"Aye, lassie. One of the most beautiful sites you would ever hope to lay eyes on!" Gimli replied enthusiastically.

"Wow! Well, maybe we will have to visit _you_ sometime."

"It would be a privilege."

"So what brings you to Minas Tirith?"

"Why the celebration, of course!"

Jordan looked at Legolas "Celebration? What celebration?"

"My love, there has been a change of plans."

_To be continued..._


	24. What Is and What Shall Never Be

**CHAPTER 2 – WHAT IS AND WHAT SHALL NEVER BE **

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_Minas Tirith_

_Late September, year four of the Fourth Age_

"_Cormarë_? What is that?"

"Also known as Ringday in the common speech. It is a day set aside to honor Frodo Baggins, the Hobbit who destroyed the ring of power. However, this is a leap year. Two days are added to the calendar right before Ringday making it a three-day celebration."

"Will there be any Hobbits here?" She asked Legolas. She had yet to encounter a Hobbit so far since coming to Middle-earth and was excited about the prospect

"I would not think so, no. The Shire is a rather long ways off."

"Oh." She said disappointedly. "You were one of Frodo's companions, right? One of the Fellowship?"

Legolas glanced at Gimli uneasily. "Yes. As was Gimli."

"You were in it too?" She asked Gimli curiously.

"Aye lassie, and together, Legolas and I battered down our enemies like waves breaking upon the shore! Cut through seas of Orcs like a hot blade through mutton fat!" He exclaimed, his booming voice rising to a thunderous pitch. "We were unstoppable! Why we even had a competition to..."

"Gimli..." Legolas gave him a look of warning.

"Right." Gimli grinned. "So...How did you two meet?"

They talked for a few hours longer, with Jordan telling Gimli their carefully rehearsed story about her journey to Minas Tirith to live with her relatives after the death of her parents, her unpreparedness and subsequent injury, and Legolas rescuing her from the Gondorian soldiers. However, the hour of the dinner party was nearing so Gimli bid them farewell and left to get ready.

Once Gimli was gone, Jordan turned to Legolas and asked, "Why don't you ever talk about it?"

"Talk about what?"

"The war. Your part in the Fellowship."

"I have never felt the need. Let the past remain as such, I say. You know what resulted from it. That is the most important thing."

"Yes, but it is a part of who you are! I have come to love you but I know so little about your past. How can I hope to understand you better if I don't know what you went through?"

"Jordan, war is seldom a pleasant subject. I know how uneasy talk of battle makes you."

"But surely there was some good too! I mean, your side won, right? Evil was defeated. You do not have to tell me every gruesome detail, only some of your experiences. How you came to be involved. Places you've seen, people you've met—like Gimli. He is your friend and yet I've never heard you speak of him until today."

Legolas sighed heavily and took Jordan's hands in his. "Forgive me, love. I do not seek to hide my past from you, I only wished to spare you from the darkness. Very well. One day we will sit down and I will tell everything you want to know, but not now. Now, we must get ready for supper at Aragorn's."

"Who else will be there?"

"Faramir and Eowyn, Eomer, Gimli of course, and Gandalf, whom you have yet to meet."

"Gandalf..." She thought for a moment. "Long white hair and beard?" Legolas nodded. "I have met him. He helped me settle a dispute with a rather unsavory merchant at the market a while back."

"Dispute? What sort of dispute?"

"He made the mistake in thinking I was a simple-minded woman who would not question his blatant overpricing or intimidation tactics. When I told him I was no longer interested a dress he was selling, he insisted I trade him my pendant for the dress, which I also refused, so he grabbed it. He would not let go, so I pulled away and the chain broke with my pendant still in his hand."

"You did not tell me of this!" Legolas said. "Did he try to harm you? Who is this man? I will see that he is thrown from the walls of the city!"

"No, no. Calm down Legolas. I don't think he would have tried anything with so many people around. The worst that could've happened is that I would have lost my pendant but Gandalf stepped in and made him return it. He also made him give me the dress for the two gold pieces I had." Jordan then laughed. "You should've seen the look on the guy's face! He was quite humble after that!"

"Well, it was fortunate that Gandalf was there to assist you. I know how much that pendant means to you."

"I don't know if 'fortunate' would be the word. He knows Legolas! He knows my secret. He saw the inscription on the pendant. He started asking me all these questions—like if there were more of my kind in Middle-earth. I think I might have offended him. I told him, rather abruptly, I did not care to discuss it with him any further. I didn't know if I could trust him. He already knew too much."

"It is good that you are cautious, but I would entrust my life to Gandalf. Your secret is safe with him."

"Is he really what he says he is? One of the Mai...Mayan...oh, you know what I mean."

"One of the Maiar, yes. A servant and helper of the Valar. Then he was known as Olorin. He was one of four Maiar sent to help the free peoples of Middle-earth oppose Sauron and they became know as Istari, or wizards."

"You certainly have an interesting assortment of friends—kings, queens, Dwarves, wizards, Hobbits."

"Yes, well, unusual am I considered since Elves tend to keep to their own kind, but it suits me." Then Legolas stopped and sniffed the air. "There it is again."

"There is what?"

"A strange sweet scent about the room that seems to come and go. I cannot place it."

Jordan laughed and walked closer to Legolas, holding her arm up to his nose. "Is this what you smell?"

Legolas' eyes lit up. "Yes!" He grabbed her arm and inhaled the scent deeply, closing his eyes in bliss. He opened them again, piercing blue eyes staring into hers intently. "I must know what it is! I have never smelled anything like it!"

"It's my lotion I brought with me from home. I forgot I had it, actually. I found it in the inside pocket of my bag while I was packing."

She walked over, retrieved the tube from her bag, and handed it to Legolas. He looked at it strangely and turned it over in his hand, examining it. Then he began to squeeze it and bend it back and forth.

"What manner of material is this that looks like glass but is as pliant as a reed?"

"Plastic." She said matter-of-factly.

"Plastic? I have never heard of it." He turned the tube this way and that and then shook it. "It is watertight, yes?"

"Yes."

"Can you make this?" He asked, holding the tube out.

"You mean plastic or the lotion?"

"The plastic."

"No. Actually, neither can I make the lotion. Once it's gone, it's gone."

"Oh." He said disappointedly. "I could think of a hundred uses for a container such as this."

"Yes, it is useful...and convenient. It is used extensively in my world, but there is one huge drawback: it is hard to dispose of. It doesn't decompose and if you burn it, it releases toxic fumes. Sometimes, it can be melted down and reused, but it is a difficult process. It has become quite a problem. I think your world may be better off without it."

She took the tube from him, unscrewed the cap, and squeezed a bit of the lotion onto his fingers.

"It's called 'Shedonism'. It's a tropical scent."

Legolas rubbed the lotion between his fingers releasing the scent into the air. "Tropical?"

"Yeah, you know, palm trees, warm sandy beaches?"

Legolas shrugged and shook his head.

"That's a shame. Anyway, it's made with essential oils of coconut and tiaré blossoms, both of which are indigenous to tropical regions."

He took hold of her arm again and with his nose just millimeters from her skin, followed the scent up to the crook of her neck

"You smell good enough to eat." He purred. Jordan's laugh quickly turned to a sigh as he began to nuzzle her neck. He then turned his attention to her lips. "I remember I promised I would taste your lips again and I plan to make good on that promise."

He captured her mouth, kissing her deeply, his tongue once again grazing across her lip before thrusting back into to her waiting mouth. She felt his hands kneading her back as he pulled her closer to him. In response, she ran her hands over his broad shoulders, up the sides of his neck, until they came to cradle his face.

"I thought we were supposed to get ready for the party." She tried to say, half of her words muffled by Legolas' lips covering hers.

Legolas rested his forehead against hers and sighed. "Yes we must...but later, we will continue where we left off...perhaps in a secluded corner of the royal courtyard?"

"Sneaking off into a dark corner and kissing like a couple of lovesick teenagers? Quite unbecoming an Elven _prince_, wouldn't you say?" She teased.

"Not if no one knows." He answered with a mischievous grin.

----------

The sun had already sunk behind the White Mountains when Legolas and Jordan arrived at the gate to Aragorn and Arwen's private residence. They were joined there by Gimli and the three of them were ushered through the gate by the guards and instructed to meet their hosts in the dining hall. They passed through the courtyard, the foliage now transformed by the fiery hues of autumn set against the rosy backdrop of the coming dusk Torches dotted the courtyard with shimmering lights that danced and mingled with the growing shadows.

Jordan leaned into Legolas and whispered, "I wish _I_ had a courtyard like this."

He simply smiled and patted her arm, which was now intertwined with his.

Aragorn was seated at the head of the long table with Arwen to his right, then Eowyn and Faramir, and to his left Gandalf and Eomer. As Legolas and Jordan entered the dining hall arm-in-arm, they were greeted by curious looks from both Aragorn and Arwen, no doubt unaware that they had reconciled. Conversely, Gandalf hid his astonishment well behind a pleasant visage to see Legolas together with the foreign woman from the market. By their mannerisms, Gandalf had a good guess as to the nature of their association and he groaned inwardly knowing this would only complicate matters. He would have to speak with Legolas soon.

All eyes were upon them as Legolas guided Jordan to the two empty seats next to Eomer, pulled out a chair for her, waited for her to sit down, and then took the seat between her and Eomer. Jordan suddenly felt self-conscious being the object of everyone's curious stares and hoped something would happen to draw everyone's attention elsewhere. Finally, after Gimli was seated on the opposite site of the table, Aragorn addressed the group.

"Good evening to you all. I am glad you all could come. Please eat, drink, take what and as much as you will, for my home is yours." He said graciously.

After that, the servants came out, their arms laden with platters of food and vessels of wine and mead, and filled the table's center so that there was barely any room for plate or cup. It was some time before anyone looked about them or spoke much, except for an occasional murmuring between bites, but when everyone had had their fill, conversation began anew and the wine began to flow. Suddenly, amidst the din, Faramir stood up and called out, "May I have everyone's attention? Eowyn and I have something we would like to share with all of you." He glanced at Eowyn, taking her hand, and they exchanged a smile. When all eyes were on him, waiting expectantly, he announced, "Eowyn is with child."

After a round of toasts and congratulations, Eomer came over and hugged his sister, then turned to Faramir and shook his hand, clapping him on the back. "Congratulations, brother."

Jordan sat smiling proudly, as someone already privy to this information. When Legolas noted the look upon her face, he said in wonder, "You already knew!"

"I am no more privileged than you. I just guessed." She shrugged her shoulders. "What can I say? I'm a doc...I mean a healer. I recognized the signs." She silently cursed herself for slipping up again in mixed company.

At length, the feast ended and the guests followed their hosts outside to the courtyard and through the garden to continue their revelry under the stars. Buried deep in the gardens, stood a gleaming white stone shelter with a peaked roof, supported by a single tall pillar at each corner. Its base was a raised platform, tiered to form two steps on all sides. In the center, burned a small but bright fire in a large metal bowl shined to almost mirror-like perfection and the effect was stunning as the flames glinted off its reflective surface. Jordan gasped softly as they approached the shelter. She had seen only the roof of the structure from afar in her earlier visits; the rest of it had been obscured by the tall hedges and vines that surrounded it. Up close, Jordan saw that it looked very old, perhaps even hundreds of years. The well-worn stone was chipped and cracked. Vines were beginning to overtake one side, hanging down in curtains of pale green. The aging, however, did not detract from its beauty but rather enhanced it—like a forgotten remnant from a glorious age of old concealed in an oasis of green, just waiting for someone to happen upon it. In a circle around the fire-bowl were ornate wooden chairs and benches, plenty for a small gathering. Jordan wondered briefly, if the gracious king and queen entertained here often and whom that might include. They seemed so isolated in their walled home high upon the city.

They gathered in groups of twos and threes, conversing boisterously, some by the fire and some just beyond the light the fire cast. The night air was thin and cool and it seemed like all but Jordan were either impervious to the cold or better dressed for it. She stood quietly by Legolas' side at the foot of the shelter clutching her thin cloak about her as he talked with Gimli and Aragorn. She listened to them speak, fondly recalling a place she had never heard of—an Elven realm called Lorien. Not wishing to redirect the conversation with all sorts of questions, she let her mind form its own image of Lorien, drawing from the words they used. Lost in thought, she flinched when she felt someone lightly touch her shoulder. She turned her head and saw it was Arwen.

"Come with me." She whispered and grasped Jordan by the wrist.

She led Jordan into the house, through the common living areas and up a grand staircase. Jordan's eyes darted this way and that, too preoccupied with taking in the lavish décor to ask why Arwen had brought her inside. Finally, they arrived at a spacious, richly appointed room. Everything about the room was larger than life, from the tree-sized wooden beams that spanned the ceiling, the enormous stone hearth, the long cushioned chaise lounge that sat in front of it, to the large canopy bed complete with heavy velvet curtains that hung from its frame.

"Is this your bedroom?" She asked incredulously.

"Yes. Wait here." Arwen said and disappeared into an adjoining room.

When she reappeared, she had a long garment draped over her arm. She held it up so Jordan could see. It was a hooded cloak made of thick, soft fur lined with rich velvet.

"Put this on. It will help keep you warm."

"It's beautiful!" Jordan breathed. She flung the cloak over her shoulders, fastened the silver star-shaped clasp at her throat, and hugged it to her body. "Thank you, Arwen! I will be sure to get it back to you before we leave."

"Keep it. It is my gift to you." Arwen said, smiling warmly.

"Are you serious? You do not need it?"

"I have others."

"Thank you, Arwen. I will never forget this."

"You are most welcome. Now let us return to the party before they send someone to search for us." She said with a mischievous smile.

As they walked down the corridor to the staircase, Arwen said, "You and Legolas have reconciled with his immortality, then?" It was more of a statement than a question, really.

"No."

Arwen raised an eyebrow in surprise. It was not the answer she was expecting. "No?"

"There is no reconciling with the fact that the one I love faces an eternity of suffering. It is a burden we will carry to the end of my days."

"But you _have _begun a courtship, is this not so?"

"Yes. Our only other choice was to deny our love and live apart." Jordan sighed heavily. "I don't know which is a worse fate. It is a tragic irony that the thing that brings us the most joy will one day be our greatest sorrow."

Arwen paused at the top of the stairs. "Without sorrow, there can be no joy, for how then would we recognize it when it comes? Do not regret your decision. The worst fate would be to spend your life wondering if the path you chose was the wrong one. It will eat at you and eventually destroy you. Rejoice in your love and the time you have been given and never look back."

Jordan stole a glance at Arwen as they walked downstairs. Perhaps she was speaking from experience. Did she at one time regret her decision to leave her family and her immortality behind? Regardless, to never wonder about whether you made the right choice was easier said than done.

--------

Outside, Arwen went on ahead to join Aragorn, but Jordan stopped at the small serving table whereon sat a few bottles of wine and a small cask of ale. As she was refilling her goblet, Gandalf approached her, seizing the opportunity to converse with her alone.

Jordan looked up and eyed him warily. "Hello, Gandalf." She said coolly.

"I think we may have started off on the wrong foot." He began. "I did not mean to frighten you that day at the market. I was surprised to find one of your kind here again and I was merely curious. I had no intent to exploit the knowledge gained." Gandalf explained.

Jordan stiffened defensively. "I was not frightened."

"Indeed." He looked this way and that, then leaned in. "Now that you know my intent, perhaps you would speak to me about it now?" He asked quietly.

"Legolas says I can trust you, so I will take him at his word. What do you want to know?"

"Why have you come? Why was the link to Middle-earth reestablished after so many years?"

"What do you mean _reestablished_?"

"We were assured by your people, the Travelers, that no one else henceforth would cross the breach."

"They are _not_ 'my people'. Well, not really, anyway. These Travelers that you speak about, the People of the Stars, whatever you are calling them, they are an ancient race of people known as the D'ni. They have been dead for centuries and their civilization is in ruins. I cannot be held responsible for what they told you."

"So you are not of the D'ni?"

"My mother was D'ni. I am half—a fact that was kept hidden from me until just recently. I have never lived among them and I know very little about them. The linking book was unearthed when some ruins being excavated collapsed. I used it and now it's destroyed."

"You are certain?"

"Yes. Dr. Watson—he's a friend of my father's—he told me he would destroy it after I linked in."

"But you did not witness its destruction."

Jordan shifted her weight nervously; uncomfortable with how the conversation had turned. This was more than innate curiosity. She was beginning to feel as if this was an interrogation for some crime committed. "Well, no. How could I?"

"Then you are _not_ certain."

"He gave me his word. I trust him. That's all I can tell you."

"Who now inhabits your world if not the D'ni?"

"The race of Men I guess you would consider them."

"And they have harnessed the power of the D'ni to move between worlds?"

"No. They know how to use it but no one knows how it works."

"So, the D'ni were more advanced than the people inhabiting your world now."

"No. Except for the technology of the linking books, their society appears very primitive in comparison." Jordan paused to think for a moment, then said, "Why is it so important that the link be destroyed? Is it so no more of 'my people' can come here?"

Suddenly, Legolas came up from behind and laid his hand on Jordan's shoulder.

"I was hoping the two of you would get to know each other."

Jordan turned and smiled, grateful for the interruption. "Legolas!" She gave him a quick kiss on the cheek.

"Where did you go? I could not find you." Legolas asked.

"Oh, I was cold. Arwen brought me inside and gave me a warmer cloak to wear. Then I was here talking to Gandalf."

Legolas' face fell when he realized his oversight. "Oh Jordan, I am so very sorry. I am not affected by the cold and sometimes it does not occur to me that others are. I will be more attentive in the future."

"Legolas, it's okay." She scoffed. "I don't expect you to coddle to my every need. I would have said something if it became too much to bear."

"I just want you to enjoy yourself."

"I am." She assured him.

"Very well."

For a moment, they gazed into each other's eyes but in this lingering exchange, though simple as it seemed, there passed between them a surge of unbridled emotions that held no need for words—a fact that was not lost on Gandalf, however.

Gandalf cleared his throat snapping them back to attention. "If you would be so kind, Lady Jordan, there is something I would like to speak with Legolas about...alone."

"Oh! Well, okay." She said, somewhat confused. "I will be by the fire, then."

"And I will join you there momentarily." Legolas said. Cupping her chin, he kissed her lips sweetly, then released her. As she walked away, she wondered nervously what the old man could possibly have to say to Legolas that she could not hear. Had she broken some ancient treaty by coming here? It was too late now; she and Legolas had burned the linking book. No one could force her to return home.

"So...that is the way of it between you two, is it?" Gandalf said.

"Yes. You do not approve?"

"Whether I approve or not has no bearing." He paused for a moment studying the Elf. "What does matter, however, is how deeply your feelings run for this woman."

"I love her, Gandalf. I would lay down my life for her."

Gandalf's expression became grave. "Then this will be difficult for you to hear."

"I do not understand. Of what do you speak?"

"Legolas, how much do you know about her past?"

"I know she is not from Middle-earth, if that is what you are referring to."

"So, she _has _been forthcoming about her origins...then you know she is half D'ni."

Legolas narrowed his gaze, taking a bit of offence to the inquiry. Gandalf was in essence calling her integrity into question. "Of course! The fact that she is half D'ni actually works to our advantage. Her lifespan is longer than that of mortal man, not unlike the Dunedin."

"Is it now?" He said with genuine surprise. Gandalf seemed to contemplate this for a moment, dragging out the silence between them. Then at last, he spoke.

"She should not have come here, Legolas. She has put all of Middle-earth at risk."

"That is preposterous! What risk could she possibly pose?"

"She has opened a door that should have never been opened! We cannot be certain that the link on the other side has been destroyed, and if it has not, what happens when others decide to follow her lead? Jordan said herself that her society is far more advanced than the D'ni—a people who can fashion a book to move between worlds! Imagine what her people could do to a world so primitive in comparison to theirs if they were so inclined?"

Legolas shook his head. "No. Jordan told me her friend would burn the book therefore destroying the link and I choose to believe he kept to his word."

"Just because you believe a thing does not necessarily make it true. The lady Jordan even admitted she could not state with absolutely certain that the link was destroyed because she did not witness it with her own eyes."

Legolas threw his arms in the air. "What would you have me do, then?" He asked, an acidic tone to his voice.

"I know this is difficult Legolas, but you must send her back to where she came from. The link _must _be severed."

Anger flashed in Legolas' eyes. "No! I will not hear of it! Even if I could, I would not!" Then the corners of Legolas' mouth curved up slightly into an almost smug smile. "This is her home now whether you would accept it or not. She would require the linking book to return to her world and she burned it as a sign of her commitment to me."

---------

Jordan sat by the fire along with the rest of the party listening as Gimli told a tale. While the others laughed at his exaggerated storytelling antics, Jordan kept glancing out into the darkness at the shadowy figures of Gandalf and Legolas. She could not hear what was being said but judging by their mannerisms, they were having a heated discussion. Suddenly a force hit her like a gust of wind, causing her to jerk and nearly fall out of her chair, and she let out a startled cry. Strangely enough, the force seemed to come from within her rather than from outside. All talking ceased and all eyes were on her.

"Are you alright, Lady Jordan?" Aragorn asked.

A wave of nausea washed over her as she settled into her seat again. She tucked a strand of hair behind her ear nervously, trying to hide her embarrassment. "Um...yeah. I, uh, I thought I felt something touch me but I guess it was my imagination. It must be the wine getting to me." She lied to him, her eyes darting anxiously in Legolas' direction. "Sorry. Please go on, Gimli."

She tried to ignore what had just happened and continue listening to Gimli's story, but she couldn't get it out of her mind. It was a similar feeling to the incident at breakfast and she knew that somehow it had to do with Legolas. Something was wrong. _What is taking you so long, Legolas?_

-----------

"You fools! Now we are at the mercy of anyone who wishes to come through!"

"Only if the link on the other side still exists, which it does not! The Valar would not have brought us together had her presence here been a danger."

"The Valar? What is this nonsense?"

"We were meant to be, Jordan and I. Ours was not a meeting of chance. The Valar brought us together and we came to love each other."

"Legolas, you do not honestly believe that the Valar would purposely pair an Elf and a mortal, do you?"

"If I did not, I would not have said it. I prayed that the Valar would one day find me someone to share my life with and they did. I was not expecting that person to be a mortal but that is whom they chose to lead me to and who am I to question those who are far wiser? They must have seen in us a need the other could fulfill, and so far that has proven to be true."

"I would hear this tale of yours of the Valar's supposed divine intervention."

"It was late spring. I was in Emyn Arnen when I sensed a strange disturbance in the Southern woods of Ithilien; not necessarily malevolent in origin, just strange, but yet I felt an overwhelming urge to seek it out. For days I rode, searching, but I found nothing untoward. By that time, I had traveled further than my senses could have possibly reached. I finally decided to turn back and it was then that I encountered Jordan in the woods—fleeing on horseback from two Gondorian soldiers intent on her capture. It did not take too long for them to catch up to her with the state she was in—as I discovered soon enough—she had gone days without food or water, was overcome by exhaustion, and badly injured. Had I not intervened, I do believe she would have died in their charge. Do you see now? The powers of the Valar were urging me on—to find her, to save her. This was not of my own doing."

"That proves nothing, Legolas. The disturbance you sensed could have retreated once you drew near, and instead, you encountered the Lady Jordan."

"No. This was no coincidence. I know it when I look into her eyes! I feel it in my heart!" He argued. "And if it is proof you seek, I have it. There was a time when she was going to leave. She was scared...scared of what would become of us should we dare to chance. A Vala named Estë stopped her. She stopped her from using the book to return home because it was a mistake. She left behind a handkerchief with the ancient language embroidered in mithril thread—a token of her visit. I will show it to you if you desire."

Gandalf shook his head, leaning heavily on his staff. "No, no. Your word is proof enough Legolas Greenleaf. I have never known an Elf to lie. I do not know if I believe that the Valar have brought you two together, but the fact that they are at least aware of who and what she is, is a small comfort to me." Gandalf softened the tone of his voice. "Listen to me, Legolas. I do not say these things to be cruel. For the love of all things good, I hope you and Jordan are right about the link, but if you are not, there may be dark times ahead for you. The Valar will no longer come to the aid of the free peoples of Middle-earth. The survival of this world now rests in the hands of Men and they must learn to stand on their own two feet."

"But _you_ are still here." Legolas said weakly, hoping it counted for something.

"My time here is nearly done. I will be leaving these shores come next spring."

Legolas' eyes slid closed for a moment and his heart sank. "You are sailing to Valinor."

"Yes, but I will not be going alone."

"Who?"

"The bearers of the rings of power."

"Lord Elrond? Lady Galadriel?"

"Yes. With Sauron's hold over the rings broken, so is the power that kept their lands fair and untouched for so long. Rather than see their lands diminish, they have chosen to move on. But there are other ring-bearers, lest we forget, and they are deserving of a special accord in their own right."

Legolas' eyes widened. "Frodo?"

Gandalf nodded."

"But how is that possible?"

"It was never said that the children of Iluvatar other than the Firstborn could not enter into Valinor, only that they would never find it."

"Will he then become immortal?" His mind turned to Jordan in this respect. If somehow she could be granted passage to Valinor, would she also be granted immortality?

"No. Not even Iluvatar Himself can change the nature of one's flesh and blood in life. He will age and pass on as any other Hobbit would."

"Oh." Legolas said sadly.

"Take heart, Legolas, all mortal beings have a final resting place. Where that truly is, I cannot say, but I have no doubt his spirit will find its way there when the time comes."

"But why would he want to leave the Shire? And what of Sam? He will be devastated."

"It goes ill with Frodo."

"Why? What has happened?" Legolas asked, his expression full of concern.

"The emotional and physical trauma he suffered under the effects of the ring has taken a great a toll on his spirit."

"But he is so young! Surely there is a way for him to be healed and live out his life in the Shire. Perhaps he just needs more time."

"Sometimes there is no mending the hurts of the past."

"Then we have done him a grievous wrong. That burden should have never been his to bear." Legolas lamented.

"You forget, Legolas, no one forced Frodo's hand. He took on this burden willingly."

"We should not have let him! There were bigger, stronger persons than he that could have accepted the challenge in his stead."

"You saw what happened at the council. Frodo was the only who could withstand the ring's influence, and just barely as it turned out. Not even _you_ can say you were not in the least bit tempted by its power."

Legolas dropped his gaze to the ground. "No, I cannot." After a moment, he looked up again, his jaw set in determination.

"It is not right, Gandalf, that we are about to celebrate his heroism when all he wishes to do is forget it. He should be living a life of comfort, enjoying the status that his accomplishment affords him."

"If only all things were right and just in this world, but they are not. Do not be sad for Frodo. He is being given a chance to finally find the healing and peace he so desperately longs for and I believe he will do just that. Besides, Bilbo will be there to keep him company."

"Bilbo?"

"Yes. Bilbo was also once a ring-bearer for a time. Legolas, do not tell the others just yet. I would like to tell each one personally in my own time."

"If that is your wish, I will abide by it." Then he added sadly, "In a way, I almost pity myself more, for I will never see him again."

Gandalf smiled sympathetically and patted him on the back as they walked back towards the shelter. "I know, Legolas. I know."

-------

When Legolas and Gandalf finally rejoined the group, Eomer graciously moved to another chair so Legolas could sit down next to Jordan. He took her hand and she leaned in and whispered, "Is everything okay?"

He forced a smile. "Everything is fine, my love."

He was convincing enough and so the whole incident was temporarily forgotten by Jordan—Legolas' mysterious conversation with Gandalf, the odd feeling. With Legolas once again by her side, a feeling of relaxed contentment settled over her and she let herself be taken by the beautiful surroundings and the pleasant company.

While the others talked, laughed, and enjoyed their ale and wine, Legolas spoke little the rest of the evening. The conversation with Gandalf weighed heavily on his heart. It pained him to know of Frodo's suffering, and now, life as he knew it was about to be irrevocably changed. It would begin with the departure of the ring-bearers, but it would not end there. More and more Elves will move on to the Undying Lands. Their great kingdoms will diminish and fade into ruin. Aragorn and Arwen, Gimli, all of his friends, even his beloved; they will all eventually die, one by one, and there would be nothing he could do to stop it no matter how tightly he tried to hold on to them. Of course, he had always known this in his heart, but it wasn't until now that it seemed an inevitable truth. He could not help but wonder what all this had been for then. Why had he fought so hard? What had he been trying to save?

(To hear soundtrack, visit elvenladyofithilien dot com)

As the night wore on, the temperature began to plunge and now no one, save Legolas, could escape its effects, despite the fire's attempt to drive it away. So at last, the party ended with a round of goodnights and farewells. Accompanied by Faramir and Eowyn, Legolas and Jordan walked back to their guest quarters in relative silence through the empty streets, mindful of the late hour.

"Whew!" Jordan sighed grateful to be back in her room. She shrugged off her new cloak and laid it carefully on the chair. "Well, I have to say I actually had fun! What a beautiful place that is. Of course, it would have been nicer in the summer."

Without a word, Legolas grabbed Jordan and hugged her tightly, almost to the point where it was difficult to breath, and buried his face in the crook of her neck.

His sudden display of affection took her by surprise. "Oh! Hi." She let out a short laugh, thinking he was being playful. She expected him any second to start kissing her ravenously as he had before the party, but when he made no attempt to further his advances or even move, she became concerned once more.

"Are you alright, Legolas?"

"Yes, love. I am fine." He mumbled into her hair.

Then Jordan remembered the two strange incidents she had experienced and wanted to see if Legolas could shed any light on them. "Hey, Legolas? There was something I wanted to talk to you about." She tried to pull away but he would not let her go. Without even lifting his head, he said wearily, "Can it wait until tomorrow? I am tired."

"Tired?" She laughed. "You don't get tired."

He loosened his hold on her and slowly lifted his head. She pulled back a bit and cradled his face in her hands expecting to see a wisecracking smile, but what she saw instead startled her. He had a pale, blank expression and the light was gone from his eyes. He looked so...vulnerable...so fragile. She stroked his cheek and studied his face trying to understand the change that had come over him. She had never seen him quite like this before and she was beginning to realize something _was_ very wrong despite his attempts to convince her otherwise.

"Are you _sure _you're alright?"

"Yes. I just want to go to sleep."

She assumed that whatever was troubling him must have something to do with the conversation with Gandalf and it was obvious he was not ready to talk about it. She pulled him into her, guiding his head to rest on her shoulder again and stroked his hair, feeling an overwhelming need to comfort him.

"Okay...we don't have to talk. It's okay. It's okay." She whispered, continuing to stroke his hair.

"I love you so much, I just want to hold you in my arms and never let go."

Jordan squeezed her eyes shut to hold back her tears. There was an almost desperate edge to his voice, which was so uncharacteristic of him, and it left her feeling helpless and bewildered. Without knowing what was wrong, there was no way she could help him.

"I love you, too, Legolas." She answered, her voice strained by emotion.

They stood for a long time, locked in their embrace, neither one talking. Finally, he said quietly, "I do not wish to return to my quarters."

Jordan withdrew from him, her features twisted in confusion, "But I thought you wanted to go to sleep."

"I do."

Then it dawned on her what he was alluding to and her eyes widened.

"Oh, you mean you want...I thought you said that was forbidden!"

"'Forbidden' may have been a poor choice of words. Discouraged perhaps. We are in love and as long as we do not let our passions overtake us...I just want to be near you. If you are not comfortable with it, I will understand." He held his breath waiting for her answer. It was quite unorthodox to be certain, but he could see no harm in it.

Jordan smiled. "No. It's fine. I would really like it if you stayed. Just let me go change into my nightgown."

When she returned from the bathing chamber, Legolas had already stripped down to his leggings and was lying on his back in the bed, under the coverlet, staring at the ceiling. Jordan blew out the few remaining candles and climbed in beside him. In the darkness, she leaned over him, her hand fumbling clumsily for his face. Finding what she sought, she brought her lips to his. She kissed him softly, running her hand tentatively across his bare chest, exploring the skin finally exposed to her touch for the first time. It felt as smooth as velvet stretched over the hard muscles underneath and just a scattering of fine, soft hair. Legolas brought his arm around her and ran his hand up the bumps of her spine as he returned the kiss. Jordan felt a mix of nervousness and excitement as they pushed the boundaries of intimacy. This was a new experience for them as a couple and she suddenly felt like a teenager taking the first awkward steps towards sexual discovery. However, she could already feel the tension building between them. They were treading a fine line between a loving touch and creating arousal, so she broke off their kiss and laid down next to him.

"How do you want to me to lie?" He whispered.

She turned onto her side facing away from him. "Lay on your side next to me." She whispered back. He did as she asked but left a gap between them. "Closer." She said. He moved closer and she scooted back against him. He seemed tense and unsure of himself at first but finally settled into her curves and relaxed. Now with him snug up against her, she reached back and took his hand, pulled his arm over her, and clasped his hand to her chest. Because of their difference in height, she found she fit perfectly in the contour of his body.

"There. We call this spooning in my world."

"Spooning?"

"Yes. 'Cause we are lying together in the shape of a spoon...well, kinda."

"An interesting analogy."

"Are you comfortable?"

With a sigh, he said, "Very much so. And you?"

"Mmm hmm."

Legolas was silent after that and Jordan listened to his quiet, even breaths, feeling the rise and fall of his chest against her back.

"Legolas?" She whispered into the darkness, wondering if he had fallen asleep. He did not stir. "Hmm. Goodnight then."

'_Goodnight, meleth nîn.' _He echoed in his head.

Within minutes, she drifted off to sleep, content in his arms. Legolas, however, only feigned sleep and he held her throughout the night, watching over her as she dreamed, not wanting to waste a single precious moment of the opportunity he had been granted.

Author's note: In regards to the timing of Gandalf's departure, I decided to use the movie's timeline instead of the book's. He needed to be in Middle-earth at the same time as Jordan.


	25. Fearveryala Binding of the Souls

**CHAPTER 3 – **_**FËAVERYALA **_** (BINDING OF THE SOULS)**

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_Minas Tirith_

_Late September, year four of the Fourth Age_

The celebration of _Cormarë_, the three-day-long holiday commemorating the heroism of Frodo Baggins, had come upon Minas Tirith at last and the entire city was alight with excitement and rejoicing. There were festivities happening in all parts of the city—storytelling, games, dancing, music, battle reenactments, even skill-at-arms competitions. People from all around poured into the city, filling the streets. The courtyard was packed with pavilions and merchant's tents and in the midst of it all, was a large open-air kitchen. The aroma of food and pungent wood-smoke it put forth permeated the air, enticing the senses—and stomachs—of hungry festivalgoers everywhere making it quite a popular attraction. The sun shone brightly and everywhere music, laughter, and lively conversation echoed off the walls becoming a boisterous roar that rose into the clear sky.

Jordan and Legolas had spent the entire day taking in the sights and sounds of the celebration, perusing the merchant's tents, enjoying the company of friends, and having their fill to eat. Legolas did his best to hide the fact that his heart was no longer in the celebration for Jordan's sake. She seemed to be enjoying herself and he did not want to spoil it for her. He tucked his pain away, relieved that she was too distracted to ask what had been the matter the previous night.

It was well into evening by the time they returned to her quarters. It had most certainly been a long day and Jordan was exhausted. She expected to come back to a cold and dark room, as was often the fact lately with the change of the season. She did not relish the thought but to her surprise, the servants had prepared the room, starting a fire in the hearth and turning down the bed. The room was now warm and bathed in the soft glow of the firelight.

"Oh my feet!" Jordan groaned as she plopped down in the chair and kicked off her shoes. "Ugh. You people have no idea of what makes a comfortable shoe!"

"My boots are fine. They do not pain my feet."

"Well, that's because you don't know any different." Then Jordan grinned. "Maybe I should become a shoemaker. Whatd'ya think?"

Legolas knelt down and took her hands, kissing each of her fingertips in turn. "I think you should stick to healing, love. I would hate to see these pretty hands become calloused and stained."

"Yeah, well, I think I would prefer that over sore feet."

"We should limit our festival activities tomorrow so your feet are not sore come evening time."

"Why? What is tomorrow evening?"

"The culmination of the celebration—music and dancing in the Hall of Kings. I want you to dance with me and you cannot do that on hurting feet."

Jordan threw her head back and laughed. "Dancing? Oh, no! I don't dance. I'm probably the last person you'd want as a dance partner. I'm about as graceful as a toad. Besides, the style of dancing in my world compared to yours, I'm sure, is completely different. I don't want to embarrass myself...or you."

She imagined herself standing in a long line of women facing Legolas in a line of men across from her, like the ballroom dances of seventeenth and eighteenth century Europe – graceful, precise movements almost more like a procession than a dance, with a lot of bowing and curtsying – the steps of which everyone had learned years before as part of their social education. She imagined herself trying to follow the steps and failing miserably. She cringed.

"I am sure your dancing skills are satisfactory."

"No, Legolas, seriously. I don't dance."

Legolas held out his hands. "Give me your foot."

"Why? What are you going to d...?" Before she could finish the last word, he started to massage her foot, working the strained muscles of her arch with his thumbs.

"Ooh. Oh my." She groaned, lurching forward as the pressure of his touch sent a jolt through her foot.

"Just sit back, close your eyes, and relax." Legolas scolded.

By the time he had finished with her other foot, she had been reduced to a pile of quivering mush.

"Oh my gosh! Where did you learn to do that?"

"I have seen Elven healers use the technique on muscle injuries to increase movement and decrease pain. I thought it would help."

"Oh, it did!"

"So you will be able to dance with me, then?"

"Oh, I see!" She laughed. "You didn't rub my feet out of the kindness of your heart, you wanted something in return. Legolas, no, seriously! I'm a terrible dancer." She winced at the though of it. "I would probably step on your foot or something."

Legolas put his hands on the arms of her chair and leaned into her, his face hovering dangerously close to hers. "What would it take to change your mind?"

She honestly gave it some thought...for a few seconds anyway. However, he had that gleam in his crystal blue eyes again; playful but with an edge of seduction and lust that was nearly her undoing every time and all thought scattered. Her lips parted slightly in anticipation.

"Kiss me." She said breathlessly.

The corners of his mouth slowly curled up in a devious grin. "And here I though you would have given me a _real_ challenge. You are far too easy to persuade." He leaned into kiss her and she huffed and pushed him away, realizing she had played right into his hand. Legolas laughed and stood up. "I am going to fetch some water to make us some tea."

"I'm still not dancing!" She yelled to him as he walked out the door. Legolas grinned and closed the door.

When he returned, he hung a small cauldron of water on a hook over the fire and then walked over to where Jordan sat frowning, her arms crossed in defiance.

"I'm not dancing. I will look like a fool." She said.

He bent down and brushed his lips against hers but she held motionless. He pulled back and chuckled. "No you will not. I can teach you." He said gently. He kissed her again and still she made no move to return his kiss. Legolas smirked. "You know you cannot resist me." He whispered against her lips.

She sighed resignedly and said, "I hate it when you're right."

She attacked his mouth with her own and it was not a gentle kiss, it was fierce and forceful borne from inhibited desires. Legolas' kiss was equally as rough, his lips crushing hers, bruising them, his tongue demanding entrance into her warm mouth. Without breaking the kiss, he wrapped his arms around her and lifted her to her feet. His strong hands grasped her hips with a vice-like hold and pulled her body tightly into his. She moaned and melted into him, letting her head drop back. He tipped his head to the side and trailed kisses along her jaw, down her throat, to the hollow of her neck. Jordan gasped in surprise when she felt the cold stone wall against her back. She was not aware that they had even moved. He leaned against her, pressing her into the wall, and slipped one arm around her waist. She hooked her leg around his and clung to him as he continued to kiss and suckle her neck. In the back of her mind, she knew they had to stop; she had to stop him. Any longer and they might not be able to, but his kisses, his touch were like a drug to her and her craving for them overpowered any will to resist. All she could do was plunge her hands into his hair and hold on. The air around them seemed to be charged with electricity that prickled her skin. Her senses were on overdrive. She was acutely aware of every place his body contacted hers, the pressure of his fingertips as they grazed over her hips and down her thigh, the texture of his lips, the hot wetness of his tongue on her skin, and now, his arousal pressing against her abdomen through the thin fabric of his leggings and tunic. She instinctively arched her lower back and rolled her hips forward, pressing into him.

"I want you." She said in a strained whisper, her warm breath lightly brushing past his ear. He had brought them to the brink, but it was she who pushed them over the edge.

He groaned against the side of her neck, shuddering as her words echoed in his head, mirroring his own thoughts, but he dared not speak them and fuel the fire. His body was numb with the agony of desire and it was torture to pull them back to their senses but they were in danger of losing themselves to their need.

"Jordan..." He whispered hoarsely in a cautioning tone, his breath coming quick and shallow. He slowly disentangled himself from her and took a step back.

Jordan brought a hand to her chest trying to catch her breath. "I'm sorry. I don't know what's come over me." She panted. "I just feel so...attracted to you right now. I mean, I'm always attracted to you, but I've never felt it so strong, almost like this primal need I can't control."

His chest was still heaving as he took hold of her hands. "No, the fault is mine. I, too, was overtaken by it. I should have stopped us before it got too strong. What you feel is the pull of our _fëar_ yearning to complete the bond they have formed."

Suddenly, the euphoric wave she had been riding came crashing down and she stared at him, stunned.

"Wait. Complete the bond? What bond? What is a _fëar_?"

"Come sit down, and I will explain." He led her to the bed, motioned for her to sit, and sat down next to her. "I should have told you sooner but it did not seem to have much of an effect on us, that is until..." His voice trailed off.

He winced at the memory of letting his one weakness – her mortality – get the better of him. In front of her. That night, he had lost control of his fear, he let his guard slip, and in his moment of vulnerability, his need to keep her close became his only thought. That closeness caused the fledgling bond they shared to grow stronger...exponentially so. He had not anticipated that. Their desire for each other would be greater now. How would she react to the knowledge? A bond such as this was not known to the mortal world. And their love was still so new, so fragile. Was she ready for the level of intimacy that _Fëaveryala_ brought?

"Until what?"

"Until we lay together last night."

"You said it was okay!"

"It is...it was...but something happened that I did not expect. You need not worry, though, it is a good thing. In the Elven tongue, it is called _Fëaveryala_ – _fëa _meaning soul or spirit and _veryala _meaning joining or a coming together. It is the binding of two people's souls. Usually, this occurs during the _Hröaveryala_, the marriage rite of physical union, but for us, it has already begun."

"Our souls? Wha...I...I don't understand. What does that mean?" She stammered.

"It means that we have made a connection that goes deeper than just the love we share. We are a part of each other now and will always be even if we do not seal the bond."

"So right now, the bond is incomplete?"

Legolas studied her reaction. There was no fear, only curiosity and, understandably, confusion. He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. "Yes. The more time we spend together, the stronger it will become, but as well so will our need for each other."

Jordan groaned and flopped backwards onto her back on the bed, covering her face with her hands. "So what? Every time we are together we'll have this insane urge to mate like wild animals?"

Legolas laughed. "Not quite like that, but we may have to limit our physical contact from now on. The pull of our _fëar_ will always be noticeable but it is when we touch that our need for each other intensifies. Part of the reason for this is: through the bond comes the ability to sense each other's emotions."

Jordan flipped over onto her side and scrambled up to a sitting position. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, wait. _Sense_ each other's emotions?"

"Yes. Usually it is nothing more than a simple awareness of what the other is feeling, but when we are together and experience the same emotions, they will combine becoming twice as powerful. This works well for feelings of happiness, love, even pleasure, but it is with negative emotions that we must exercise caution. They can feed off each other becoming overpowering. A good example of this is the night of the delegate's dinner. We were both angry. It flowed between our bond, combining like oil and flame, but because we were not aware of the bond, it raged out of control. Had I known at the time, I would have been better able to control my emotions."

Could that be the reason for the strange feelings she had experienced, first at breakfast a few days ago, then in the courtyard last night? Was she picking up on Legolas' emotions? It all seemed so hard to believe. This was the stuff of science fiction books and movies. This just didn't happen in her world.

"Ai! I have forgotten the water!" Legolas suddenly exclaimed.

He got up and rushed to the hearth, testing the water with his finger. She watched him while he prepared their tea, contemplating whether to say anything about her experiences. The more she thought about them, the more she doubted herself. She didn't recall feeling any particular emotion at the time. She could've been tired or it could've been the wine. It could have even been some sort of anxiety episode. They were all reasonable explanations. Finally, she couldn't stand it anymore. She had to know, even if it meant finding out she was wrong.

"Legolas, last night while you were over talking to Gandalf, the strangest feeling came over me. It's hard to explain but it was as if something exploded inside of me or like the wind had been knocked out of me. It was so startling that I almost fell out of my chair. The oddest thing was, it seemed like it had something to do with you, but I don't know why. Is _that_ what its like to sense your emotions?"

Legolas raised an eyebrow in surprise as he handed her a steaming cup of tea. "Not exactly. You should have been able to tell what I was feeling and you did not?"

"N-no." She faltered. Of course not. What was she thinking? She was mortal. She couldn't sense anyone's emotions.

"It happens sometimes that when one of us is overcome by a very strong emotion or emotion_s_—for instance, if one of us was in danger—it can overwhelm the other. The underlying emotion could have gotten lost."

Hearing this, she became hopeful again. "So you still think it was this, what did you call it, _Fëaveryala_?"

"Oh, yes. Of that, I am certain."

Flashes from the previous night came back to her. As she watched Legolas and Gandalf from the shelter, their body language, their facial expressions had not suggested a friendly conversation.

"Were you and Gandalf arguing?" She asked hesitantly.

"Yes, we were." Then he quickly added, "It was just a misunderstanding, though." Legolas hoped she would leave it at that. It would hurt her if she knew Gandalf had demanded she leave Middle-earth.

She thought back to her own conversation with Gandalf. Everything about it told Jordan Gandalf did not like the fact that she was here. Then when Legolas arrived, he wanted to talk to him alone.

"It was about me, wasn't it?"

"How did you know?"

"I thought it was kind of odd that he wanted to speak to you alone...especially after what he said to _me_."

"What did he say to you?"

"He didn't understand why I was here. He said he was told long ago that no one would use the link. He didn't seem to like the fact that I was here. He was convinced others would follow even though I told him the link had been destroyed. He didn't believe me."

She recalled the feeling that came over her while Legolas and Gandalf were arguing—startling, violent, like when someone explodes in anger. Is that what she had felt? Had Legolas been angry? And what would give him cause to become so? She had a good guess. Instantly, her own anger rose. "He wanted you to send me back home didn't he! And you got angry." Her hands clenched into fists. "Ooh, that...that meddlesome wizard!" She spat.

"Yes, he did say that and actually, I was furious," he admitted, "but you have nothing to worry about. You and I both know you can never return home and now Gandalf knows as well. Besides, I told him about the Valar's involvement when you were going to leave and that seemed to satisfy him."

Jordan frowned "But he still does not like me."

"You must understand, he was charged to protect Middle-earth. He saw the linking book as a threat he could not ignore. Now that he has accepted the situation, I think you will see him come around."

She didn't know why it was so important to her that the old wizard liked her, that he accepted her. Better to have him as an ally than an enemy she supposed.

"Have you ever sensed _my_ emotions? I mean besides at the Delegate's dinner?"

"That and more." He said, particularly pleased with himself. "Not only did I feel what you felt, I heard you."

"Heard me?"

"Out on the Anorien planes. I was on watch one night. It was quiet and still, the men were asleep, and with no one but the moon to keep me company, my thoughts turned to you as they often did in those times—wondering if you had really gone, if I would ever see you again. Then a vision appeared in my mind of you standing on the balcony, looking out into the darkness. You were worried and restless. I wanted so much to hold you and tell you I was all right, but there was no way to reach you, of course. You were gone and it was just a dream, so I thought. Then...you began to sing. The song, I had never heard before and how could I dream of that which I do not know? I could not explain it, but in there in the darkness, under the stars, your voice surrounded me, comforted me, gave me hope that you were still here. When you told me about how you stood on the balcony and called out to me, I asked you to sing the song to see if it was the same as the one I had heard out on the planes, and indeed it was. It was then that I realized _Fëaveryala_ had begun."

A chill went through Jordan's body and she shivered. "How is that possible? Even if we _can_ sense each other's emotions, how could you hear a song I sung from miles away?"

"Well, what is a song but emotion put to music? You reached out to me across the miles, Jordan, and I to you and somehow our _fëar_ found each other. I do not know how it happened and it may never happen again, but it was just what I needed at the time. I clung to the memory of it, determined to get back to the city safely, in the hopes that I would find you there, waiting for me."

Jordan smiled but it didn't quite reach her eyes. "And I was." She said softly.

She fell silent and stared into the flames of the dying fire as they danced on the charred wood. She wore a mask of calm, but inside she was mix of emotions. Jumbled thoughts raced by in succession, too quickly to focus on any one in particular. How was she supposed to feel about all this? They now shared a bond that went beyond the physical realm. She had no reason to doubt Legolas' claims, but her experiences were hardly comparable to what Legolas had described. There was no startling revelation, just some vague feelings. She didn't feel particularly different other than her heightened desire for him. Did she really have the ability to sense his emotions or was it just intuition? And did she want to? One on hand, it gave her a strange sense of pride. To have the ability to sense Legolas' emotions, in her eyes, made her more like him, more elf-like and a little less...human. On the other hand, it brought a level of intensity to their relationship that made her fearful. There was now more at stake should something go wrong.

"Jordan?" He asked.

"Hmm." She responded flatly, still staring at the fire.

"I cannot tell what you are feeling. Are you alright?"

"That's probably because I don't know what I'm feeling myself."

"What is troubling you, my love?" He asked gently. "Does it frighten you to learn of our bond?"

"No," came her immediate response, then she paused. "Well, yes. I don't know. This sort of thing doesn't exist in my world. Maybe you can sense my emotions, but how are you so sure I can sense yours?"

"You have. You said so."

"No, it was just a guess." She insisted.

"It was more than that. Do not doubt yourself. Perhaps because this is the first time..."

She cut him off. "No, this was the _second_ time it happened, and the first time, I did not feel any emotion either...just uncomfortable."

"When was this?"

"It was at breakfast a few days ago."

"And what was happening at the time?"

"Eowyn was telling the story of how Eomer nearly drowned."

Legolas' face fell. "Oh, that." He said quietly. His explanation came slowly, uneasily. "You _did_ sense my emotions, Jordan, you just did not understand them. Emotions do not always have a name. Apprehension or uneasiness could easily be interpreted as a sensation of discomfort and that is a fairly accurate representation of what I was feeling."

She shook her head in confusion. "Why?"

Legolas groaned inwardly. He looked down at the coverlet, picking at an invisible spot, reluctant to answer. Of all the times she could have been attuned to his emotions, he had hoped this was not one of them. It was difficult for mortals to comprehend and more difficult still to convince her that he would not someday leave her willingly or unwillingly because of it, but he had to tell her the truth.

"To understand why I felt the way I did, you must first understand this: All Elves at some point will feel the pull of the sea calling them to the Undying Lands and within us lies an instinctual desire to heed the call. I have always dwelt inland and it was not until the war as I sailed down the Anduin that I heard the cry of the gulls and smelled the salt carried on the wind for the first time. It was then that I felt the desire to return to the place of my origins. However, many friendships were formed during that time, special bonds that could not be broken. I felt torn, conflicted. The pull was strong but the love for my friends was stronger. I vowed that I would never leave Middle-earth until every member of the Fellowship had passed on. The sea-longing will always be a part of me, within me, _that_ I cannot help but it is something I have learned to suppress. However, it can become difficult to ignore when brought to the forefront of my attention."

"Wait a minute. _Leave_ Middle-earth? What do you mean 'leave Middle-earth'? Just where is this place?"

"The Undying Lands are of this world but they are not _in_ it. To get there, one must take a ship into the west, though only an Elven mariner can find the straight road to the Blessed Realm, whereas men would only find themselves in the far east."

"Legolas, I don't care where we live. If that's where you must to go..."

"No, you do not understand. The Undying Lands are the realm of the Valar, where the Elves once dwelled and where the Elves dwell again. Mortals cannot pass through."

Even though Bilbo and Frodo were given a special accord, the only one who had it in his power to grant, as an emissary of the Valar, was Gandalf, and come spring, he would be gone. There would be no one left to intercede on Jordan's behalf, if such a thing could be done.

Her look of confusion faded into a blank stare of disbelief. "I see." She whispered softly.

He could feel her retreating within herself, putting up walls to protect her from the hurt she assumed was coming. He reached out and touched her arm. "I can feel your fear. Do not be afraid."

The full meaning of his words slowly registered in her brain. She squeezed her eyes shut to hold back the tears. "When?"

"When what?"

"_When_ are you going to leave?" She said through clenched teeth, her voice tinged with anger. How had things gone so horribly wrong in only a matter of minutes? How could he have done this to her? To let her think they had a life together, when he was just going to leave! Then she groaned to herself. How could he, indeed? The bitter irony was that she had done the same thing to him and just as easily. Perhaps she deserved this. Love was fallible..._people_ were fallible. It was easier to blame herself than to try to rationalize someone else's actions. Calmly and quietly, she leaned over and set her cup of tea on the nightstand for fear her shaking hands would drop it. "I should have known," she said softly, "it was too good to be true."

Legolas could feel her _fëa_ pulling away from his. "Jordan, don't do this!"

She did not acknowledge him, so consumed was she in her own thoughts. She shook her head. "I should have seen it coming." She said, her voice barely audible as if it were only meant for her to hear.

He tightened his grip on her arm. "Jordan, look at me!" He commanded.

Startled, she focused again on his liquid blue eyes, trembling slightly at the intensity of his gaze. He grasped her by the shoulders and held her at arms length. "I am not going to leave you! Not until they lay your body to rest would I leave you, and then only because I would have nothing left in this world to keep me here!"

As he spoke, her eyes brimmed with tears about to spill over. Her pain was so acute it took his breath away. She didn't believe him. He felt like his heart was being squeezed in his chest by an unseen fist.

"Who did this to you?" He demanded. "Who hurt you so badly that you have lost all of your trust in love, that you think yourself unworthy of love? Was it that man, Christian?" He nearly spat the word 'man'.

She bit her lip, looked away, and nodded. Legolas' voice softened a bit, though retained an edge of bitterness. "And do you think so little of me as to liken my heart and mind with his?"

She looked back at Legolas in shock. "No! I didn't mean..." She stopped and sighed. Her shoulders slumped. There was no point in explaining. It would only make sense to her.

"There comes a time when one must let go—let go of the past, let go of the pain. I am not him, Jordan. I would never hurt you."

"Maybe not willingly, but you said yourself it was instinctual. What if you just don't have the strength left to resist its pull one day?"

"I can resist it because of your love, because of our bond. There is nothing more powerful than the two combined."

The anguish she felt poured out in her voice and a single tear slid slowly down her cheek.

"And what happens after I'm gone, after all the Elves are gone, and you are all that remains? What if in all that time you miss your chance? I know what will happen to you. Arwen told me...told me what it means when an Elf fades."

"The only way for you to live on is through _me_. If I die, all that remains of you here..." he tapped his head. "...and here..." he laid his hand over his heart. "...dies _with_ me. I will not let that happen! If it comes to pass that every ship has since set sail, I will find another way." He said, his jaw set in determination and his fists clenched. "I swear on all that is good, I _will_ find a way! I will build my _own_ ship if need be!"

He spoke with such forcefulness it made her cringe. She stared at him with wild eyes. He stared back—his own eyes no longer bright blue but a muted stormy gray that shimmered with wetness. He took her hand and pressed it to his heart, holding it there with his own. He drew upon all that was in him: all his love, his joy, his strength and channeled it through their bond.

"If I cannot make you believe with words, I will show you instead."

She felt the beating of his heart against her palm, the life of him, but there was something else there as well. Her eyes went wide and she sucked in her breath. "Oh God." She said in a startled whisper. Her eyes kept darting from their hands to his face and back again. She knew this feeling! All that time she had tried to distance herself from Legolas, to fight her feelings for him—so resolute was she in her objective when they were apart, but when they were together, these emotions that seemed to come from nowhere would wash over her changing her ideals, dissolving her will, erasing her doubt until all she could think of was how happy she was to be near him. She often wondered if he held some sort of enchantment over her. Now she knew. Legolas had been right. She could sense his emotions. It had been there all along. She was sensing his emotions perhaps even as early as their first kiss. It was his love for her that she felt then, just as it was now. Only now, it was much stronger. She closed her eyes and let the sensation envelope her and fill her senses. The back of her eyelids swam with a dizzying array of color and light. Her body felt weightless, translucent. There were no words to describe it—unless one could describe 'seeing' the emotion of love, not with their eyes, not with their mind, but with their heart. She visualized the power of her love joined with his as an orb of pure light at the center of her core, energy swirling on its surface, and projected it back towards Legolas through their bond.

Slowly, she opened her eyes. Something tickled her cheek and she reached up to brush it away. She felt wetness and realized she had been crying. It was the single most powerful experience she had ever had in her life. Legolas was watching her with concern in his eyes.

"What is it? What did you see?" He asked gently.

"Love." She said simply.

She understood now. They had always been meant for each other; their fates decided long ago. He could no sooner leave her than he could will himself to die, or she him. That was the power of their bond. Only one question remained.

"Can this bond ever be broken?"

"_Fëaveryala_ is the strongest bond that can exist between two people. If we were to part from each other now, the bond would fade, although there would always be a piece of our hearts that remembered. But once the bond is sealed, it is eternal. It cannot be undone by either strength of will nor any spell. Only death can break the bond between two _fëar_...and sometimes even that is questionable."

The magnitude of all that she had learned in the short amount of time and the emotion that it wrought overwhelmed her and tears welled up in her eyes again, spilling over, cascading down her cheeks. Legolas gathered her up in his arms and hugged her head to his chest. She slackened in his embrace, letting herself be supported by the solid strength of his arms as they cradled her. He held her for a while, lightly rubbing her back, listening to the soft roar and crackle of the fire.

"I'm sorry, Legolas." She cried. "I really thought you were going to leave and I was so scared, that's all I could see. It's just still so hard for me to trust...to trust in love, to trust _myself_, but I am trying."

"I know. I know you are, my love. I know that trust must be earned and every day I hope to gain a little more and you will see there is nothing to fear."

"I just wish we didn't have to worry about the future. It's like there's this black cloud hanging over us...following us...just waiting to spill out its doom."

He leaned back a bit, lifted her chin, and kissed away the salty drops. "Do not cry, my love." He murmured softly. "I, too, have struggled with these thoughts and we will again at some point but it is all a matter of perspective. Our life together is just beginning. There are many adventures still to be had and many long years to come before we must face our fates. Why spend the time worrying about that which we cannot control?"

The words were spoken for her benefit but he was surprised at the truth of them.

"I know. You're right. Sometimes I just love you so much that it hurts."

"And it is _that_ kind of love that made it possible for our _fëar_ to bond before their time."

Jordan closed her eyes and sighed wearily, letting herself be pulled into Legolas' embrace, resting her head against his chest again. He looked down at her feeling a surge of relief and joy wash over him. He knew that mortals had a difficult time understanding the ways of the Eldar. He had been worried that the power of their bond would frighten her to the point that she would never come to understand or accept it. But how she had surprised him! How far she had come from the broken and hopeless creature he found in the woods. There was strength in her after all.

He couldn't imagine how hard it was to be completely removed from everything you've ever known, from everything that was _familiar_. Thrust into a world with beings you never knew existed and whose ways must seem foreign and strange. However, she had adjusted surprisingly well to life in his world. She knew as well as he that their story would not have a happy ending and yet she loved him more that he ever thought he could be loved.

After a time, she pulled away from Legolas and sat up, sniffed, and wiped her nose with the back of her hand. She was determined that if he could be positive about the situation when he was the one who was going to suffer the most, then so could she.

"Okay, so tell me more about our bond. Why do your emotions come to me sometimes and not others? It seems so sporadic."

"I am not certain. _Fëaveryala_ is a very complex phenomenon. All I can share with you is what I have learned, which is what every Elf is taught, and that is only a basic understanding of the process. Because the bond is unique to each individual, its complexities cannot really be taught, they must be experienced. With our bond being incomplete, perhaps only strong emotions are conveyed. Once the bond is sealed, however, we should be able to sense each other's emotions at any time with little effort."

"Well, how _do _we seal the bond?" She asked, thinking it might be as simple as reciting some invocation or spell.

"It can only be sealed through the _Hröaveryala_."

She wished she hadn't taken a drink of her tea just then. She nearly choked on it. She remembered Legolas referring to the _Hröaveryala_ as the 'marriage rite of physical union'. "By making love?" She spat out.

"The _Hröaveryala_ in itself is more than just lovemaking. It is a process of becoming one with your mate in both body _and_ mind, making a conscious effort to completely focus on only each other and the giving and receiving of pleasure, blocking out all else. A great amount of time is spent becoming familiar with each other's bodies and discovering what sort of touch is most pleasurable to each person. Maintaining eye contact as well as honest and open communication is all very important to this process. Food and drink are usually kept on hand as well to provide strength and nourishment as the ritual usually lasts the entire night. When the two truly become one, their _fëar_ or souls will begin to bind creating a perfect balance of _Hröaveryala_ and _Fëaveryala_. Then, with the culmination of the physical union, the bond is sealed."

Jordan was blushing furiously by the time he had finished his explanation. It's not that she was naïve in these matters, but she was very modest by nature and quite shy about voicing her desires and likewise, no man she had been with had ever taken the initiative. She supposed that for someone who had no experience, like Legolas, it was a better way to learn than awkward groping in the dark. Still, the idea of giving direction on how she liked to be touched and what she didn't like seemed a bit embarrassing to her as well as somewhat intimidating.

"You are blushing." He observed. "Do your people not talk about these sorts of things?"

"No, not really. _Some _do, I guess." She said with an uneasy laugh.

"Elves are very open on matters of love and intimacy. They are viewed as a natural part of life and nothing to be ashamed or embarrassed about."

"I'm not...I'm just...I mean it's just a little awkward talking about it with you." She blurted out.

"Why?"

"I don't know, it just...is." She quickly changed the subject so Legolas could not ask her to explain further. "So, we have to be married before we can seal the bond." She restated just to be clear.

"Before?" A look of confusion crossed Legolas' eyes.

Jordan faltered. "I...I thought Elves had to get married before they had...before the _Hröaveryala_."

Legolas smiled endearingly at her. "I thought the connection would have been quite clear, but the _Hröaveryala_ is the way in which Elves marry, my love."

Jordan's eyes widened. "What? So there's no ceremony? You just..." She let her voice trail off. There was no need to complete the sentence. Legolas understood her meaning.

He nodded. "There can be a celebration if one wishes. Traditionally, in times of peace, a great feast was _always_ held to celebrate the marriage. During the feast, the blessing of the marriage and the exchange of rings would take place. At the end of the feast, the couple would then be whisked away to a secluded place to initiate the _Hröaveryala_. However, in times of war, unrest, or any other situation where a celebration may not possible or desired, it is acceptable to forgo it. The feast and rituals therein are not what constitutes an Elven marriage. It is the 'act' itself - the physical union - and the subsequent binding of the souls that unites two Elves in marriage."

New understanding dawned in her eyes. She knew now _why _Elves did not have sex before marriage. It would be a contradiction in terms. Sex _was_ marriage to them. To lie with someone simply for pleasure with no intention of marriage was impossible, and for a society who held honor and respect in the highest regard, it was unconscionable.

Married. To Legolas. Did she dare believe it would someday happen? Of course it would, she suspected, and the thought both thrilled and terrified her at the same time. She had always outwardly maintained that she was perfectly all right being unmarried, that she was better off being single. She didn't need that connection with someone to feel whole, to feel fulfilled. It was a lie to ease her conscious, but as well betrayed her heart. The truth was, she wanted it more than anything. She had waited for so long, cried out to the darkness, looked on in bitterness and longing at others who had what she desired. Was it finally her time? Although they spoke about their lives and of their fates as if it had already been arranged, it still seemed out of her reach, like a rare jewel she would never be able to afford. Then again, there was the bond they shared. How could either of them deny something their souls had already decided? Her thoughts raced, mixed and jumbled with excitement at the possibility. Her pulse quickened, pounding in her ears, joining in with the crackling and popping of the fire and she was suddenly aware of how hot it was in the room. She was becoming lightheaded. She fixed her gaze on Legolas. He was so achingly beautiful. She let her eyes wander to feast on his other features: the gold and silver tones in his long hair that shimmered in the firelight, the shape of his nose, the angle of his cheekbones, the line of his jaw, his leaf-shaped ears that fascinated her so much.

(Music queue) To listen to soundtrack, visit elvenladyofithilien dot com

"What are you thinking about?" Legolas asked softly, curiously.

Jordan reached out and fingered one of the thin braids that framed his face. "You."

Legolas moved his face closer to hers, his gaze penetrating her, igniting a fire within. "What _about_ me?" He asked in a voice barely above a whisper.

She scooted closer to him. "How lucky I am to have you."

"'Twas not luck. We were fated...and I will love you every day of forever." He said with a smile, stroking her jawline with his finger.

Jordan rose to her knees above him and leaned in. Their faces were inches apart. He didn't move; his steeled gaze never wavered. Slowly, deliberately, she brought her fingers to his lips and traced their shape. She watched as he drew one of her fingertips into his mouth, sucking on it gently, before releasing it. The warm wetness of his mouth sent shivers coursing through her. Her breathing quickened and a small sound escaped her lips. Her heart pounded in her chest. She ran her fingers down his chin, his neck, to his chest, lightly brushing over the hard muscles. Gently but firmly, she pushed him down on his back. He went easily, without protest. She leaned over him, her hand on his chest for support. Her long hair tumbled down around them, curtaining them off from the world. His chest rose and fell with his heavy breathing. Leaving one knee next to his hip, she put the other one between his legs, and looked down into his eyes. Lowering herself further, she brushed her lips against his, her eyes fluttering closed for a moment. Legolas' hand came up to rest on the small of her back, stroking in little circles. Continuing to support herself with one hand on his chest, she brought her other hand to the side of his face, caressing it, and ran her fingers along the edge of his ear, rubbing the pointed tip between her thumb and forefinger. He sucked in his breath and she felt his muscles tense beneath her. Feeling strangely emboldened, she said breathlessly, "Do you like to be touched there?"

He nodded and whispered, "They are..." he searched for the word, "sensitive. It would be the same as if I touched you...here." He cupped her breast and lightly rubbed the pad of his thumb back and forth over her nipple through the fabric of her dress. Her breath caught in her throat and she pressed herself into his hand. Bolder still, she bent down, leaning on one elbow and drew the tip of his ear into her mouth, dragging her tongue across it. Legolas slid his hands into her hair, tightening them into fists, and uttered a small, quiet moan. His chest heaved against her hand. He gently pulled her head up and brought her lips to his, kissing her deeply. All reason was leaving her. She was losing herself to him.

"A warrior I may be but I am powerless under your touch." He whispered against her lips. His words sent a bolt of white heat through her very core, melting her from the inside out. He kissed her again, long and lingering, tasting every part of her mouth with his tongue. Every nerve in her body was tingling, electrified, and the sensation was unmistakable this time. It was the magnetism of their _fëar_ drawing them together. Reluctantly, she slowed their kiss, pulling further and further away each time their lips touched. Then, with one last brush of her lips against his, she pushed herself away from him and sat down beside him on the bed. Trying to compose herself, she cleared her throat and ran a hand through her hair. "Um, I think I should probably get ready for bed."

Legolas sat up slowly, his eyes still a bit glazed over from the heat of their passion. His rapid breaths passed silently through his slightly parted lips.

"Yes, it would be best if we both retired for the night."

Legolas waited for Jordan to change into her sleeping gown and tucked her into bed, giving her a chaste kiss on the forehead before returning to his room. He quickly undressed and as he sank into the soft comfort of the down-filled mattress, he smiled to himself in the knowledge that each new day would bring them closer together. Every day that passed, her trust in him would grow and the hurts of the past replaced with love. Soon, she would be ready. Soon, he would ask her to marry him.

Jordan lay on her back looking around the room, peering into the inky darkness. Though she could barely discern any feature in the room, she did not need to. She knew it well. It had been her home for the last few months. It should seem strange. It was not textured and painted sheetrock with windows of glass; it was not concrete and steel. It was stone. A whole city built of stone, the likes of which she could never have envisioned in her wildest imaginings. It should seem strange, but it did not. If someone had told her that one day she would dine with kings and queens, drink wine with a wizard, and fall in love with a prince, as a doctor, it would have been her responsibility to have them committed, but yet here she was. It wasn't some absurd notion, it was her life now and she found herself willing to embrace it, _all_ of it. Yes, she lived in a world without modern comforts—electricity, running water, motorized transportation—a fate that would have seemed intolerable only a year ago—but to her surprise, those things didn't seem so important anymore. She found someone who would love and cherish her, protect her, and above all remain true. How or where they lived seemed insignificant as long as they were together. To say that life was strange was an understatement. Life was strange, beautiful, exhilarating, terrifying all at the same time. Jordan curled up on her side bunching the blanket up in a ball underneath her chin. The large bed she lay in was empty and lonely and she missed the comfort of Legolas' arms around her. She was a little disappointed that they could not continue to sleep in the same bed. It was just too difficult to control their desires, when the bond they shared intensified those desires, but their hearts belonged to each other and it was enough for now. As she drifted off to sleep, her last thoughts were of the future and of the day when they could finally be together and she smiled to herself in the dark.

* * *

Elvish translations:

_Fëa_: Soul/spirit

_Fëar_: (pl.) Souls/spirits

_Hröa_: Body (Plural form _Hröar_ contested)

_Veryala_: Joining

_Fëaveryala_: Joining of the soul

_Hröaveryala_: Joining of the body

A/N: A note on the origins of the Elvish words: _Fëaveryala_ and _Hröaveryala_.

I am aware that Elves of the Second and Third Age (Legolas included) spoke Sindarin. Usually, I prefer to remain historically and canonically accurate whenever I can, however, in this case it was not possible. There are no terms in Sindarin or Quenya that wholly fit the definition, so it was necessary to create my own compound words. I experimented with a few combinations of Sindarin words but the results were less than appealing, so I chose to use Quenya partly because most readers are already familiar with the words fëa and hröa and partly because the words I was able to create seemed a little more believable than their Sindarin equivalents.

'_Verya_' is a verb that means 'to marry' or 'to join'. I think it is more often used when talking about marriage, but it was the only word I could find that fit the definition of 'join' or 'joining' in regards to people. The suffix 'la' is the equivalent of the English 'ing'.

Source: Ardalambion


	26. In the Days of Small Sorrows

Author's note: Hello dear readers! My sincerest apologies for how long it has taken me to post a new chapter. However, it was not without good cause. I experienced a major life-changing event last May when I lost my job of six years. It was a devastating blow. Even now, I am still trying to pick up the pieces. Although I found myself with a lot of time on my hands, the desire to be creative just wasn't there. I did try a few times, but the ideas, the words did not come. It was if I had lost the ability to write. Consequently, I lost interest in the story and the characters and I stopped writing altogether. It wasn't until I received a review one day, that my interest was renewed. It was completely unexpected, as it had been many months since I posted the last chapter. Up until then, I had been feeling like I had nothing worthwhile to offer anyone, in any aspect of my life. It reminded me that there _are_ people out there, who value my writing and they are waiting to find out what happens. It gave me just enough confidence to start again. It was slow at first, painfully slow, but eventually it began to take shape. Finally I have what I feel is a worthy addition to the story. However, my confidence in my writing is still a bit shaky and I need your reviews, your input, now more than ever. If there is a part you felt was too short and needed to be expanded on, or too long, or if there is a part that just seemed silly or inconsequential to the plot and could have been left out all together, please let me know. I need a sense of direction.

With that being said, I hope you enjoy the new chapter. It's been a long time coming. As it is the celebration of Cormarë, there is a lot of music that accompanies it, handpicked by me to fit each scene, so I hope you will take the time to visit my website and listen along. For those of you who are new to the story or perhaps don't remember, I have a new, completely redesigned website: saoirselochlann dot com. I will have to rebuild my automatic update list, so if you were on it previously or you wish to sign up, you can send me an email through the site. I am also on Twitter under Saoirse_Lochlan and will be posting regular updates about the progress of the story there, so you are welcome to follow me.

Finally, I want to give a big heart-felt thanks to you, my readers. Thank you for your interest in my story and your patience. You made this possible. So, without further ado....

**Chapter 4 – In the Days of Small Sorrows**

* * *

_Minas Tirith _

_Late September, year four of the Fourth Age_

Jordan knocked on the heavy wooden doors to the Houses of Healing. Legolas had left after breakfast to attend to some matter – he would not say what, only that she should rest in her quarters while he was away. However, the stone walls held no interest for her. She was bored and a little on edge with Legolas gone. Her thoughts kept returning to her friend Mariwen, who had just lost her husband. She decided to slip away for a while to check on her.

The doors parted a crack revealing Astrid, the matronly head healer.

"I am sorry, Jordan. Mariwen is still not taking any visitors."

"Oh. Well can you tell me how she is? Is she okay?"

Astrid looked around to make sure no one was listening and stepped through the threshold of the door, shutting it behind her.

"The truth is, she is not well," she said quietly, shaking her head. "Not well at all. I fear for her. She barely eats. I leave a tray by her door and when I come back to retrieve it, it's hardly been touched, if at all. All day long, she just sits by the window, staring out. I can see her up there from the garden. I don't think she sleeps neither."

Jordan sighed. "You need to get her out of that room, Astrid. She needs to be among people. Have her return to her duties. With nothing to occupy her time, she is just going to continue to dwell on her loss."

"I've tried. She refuses."

"Well, does she have any family? Someone she can stay with that can take care of her?"

"No. Firindor was all she had."

"Let me talk to her. Maybe I can get through to her."

Astrid sighed heavily. "You can try, but it won't do you much good."

Astrid led Jordan through the Houses of Healing, out the back, and up the stairs to the rooms above it. When they got near Mariwen's door, they heard faint crying and whimpers of pain coming from inside.

"Mariwen!" Jordan pounded on the heavy wooden door. "Open the door! It's Jordan!"

"Jordan?" Mariwen's strained, weak voice could barely be heard through the door. "Oh, Jordan! Help me!"

Jordan pushed on the door, but it wouldn't budge. "I can't. The door is locked. You have to unlock it!"

There was silence, then a muffled shuffling noise. The bar across the door was lifted and it opened.

"Oh my God! Mariwen!"

Mariwen was hunched over clutching herself between her legs, a bright red stain blooming out from underneath her hands.

"What happened?" Before the words even left her mouth, she knew; Mariwen was miscarrying.

"My child..."

Jordan shot Astrid a hard glare. "Did you know?"

"No!"

"It was too soon," Mariwen panted. "Ill fortune to speak of it so soon. I never told anyone...except Firindor."

Jordan caught her before she collapsed. Jordan briefly wondered how Mariwen's pregnancy could have been overlooked by herself or any one of the healers, though in their defense, the robes typically worn by the healers would have helped to disguise it.

With Astrid's help, they carried her to the bed. The sheets were also stained with blood, so they stripped the bed and spread a clean blanket over the mattress before laying her down. Mariwen writhed in pain, still clutching her stomach and sobbing.

"Astrid, go get help and get me some water, soap, blankets, and towels, lots of towels! Hurry!"

"_You're_ going to deliver the child? Shouldn't I fetch the midwife instead?"

Jordan looked sternly at the woman. "I've delivered plenty of babies, now go!"

Jordan helped Mariwen out of her ruined sleeping gown, tossed it aside, and covered her with a fresh blanket.

"Mariwen, I need you to calm down and breathe. We'll get through this okay?"

Mariwen looked at her with wild eyes and clawed at her arm in panic. "This is my fault! Ever since I learned of Firindor's death, I've only eaten but a few morsels, had but a swallow of water; I've hardly slept! I've killed our child!" Mariwen sobbed.

For the first time, Jordan took note of her overall appearance. It was shocking. Her cheeks were sunken and her skin ashen, a stark contrast to the dark purplish bruising underneath her eyes. Her hair stood up in tangled clumps.

"Mariwen stop! You did not cause this. A few days without food or drink would not cause you to miscarry your child."

Astrid finally returned with supplies and three assistants. The assistants immediately started a fire to heat the water.

"Here is a bit of fresh water and some clean linens."

The hot water would have to wait. Jordan silently cursed her primitive working conditions. She scrubbed her hands the best she could with the soap and a bowl of water. Astrid peered over Jordan's shoulder with a mixed look of curiosity and suspicion.

"What are you doing now?" she pried.

"I'm washing my hands! Don't you people ever wash your hands before examining a patient?" She shouted in exasperation.

Astrid shrank back. This woman whom she barely knew certainly had strange ways but her conviction and authoritative manner could only come from experience. Astrid thought it would be best to trust her and said nothing further. Jordan proceeded to examine Mariwen. She groaned in pain and clutched the blanket in her fists.

"How far along are you?"

"I have lost count. Perhaps four moon cycles?"

When Jordan was finished, she stood up and said, "I'm sorry, Mariwen, the baby is coming. I can't stop it from being born."

Mariwen's sobbing began anew.

Firindor and Mariwen's baby boy was born two hours later, severely premature and stillborn. His tiny, nearly formed body was quickly wrapped in linens and handed off to one of the attendants. Mariwen, though her eyes were still glazed with pain, struggled to see past the attendants to get a glimpse of her child, but they had positioned themselves purposely to block her view. When she realized they were leaving with the child, she cried, "Wait! I want to see my baby."

Everyone in the room froze, looking at each other with wide-eyed dread.

"No." Jordan said firmly. "That's not a good idea."

"Please. I need to see him. I want to say goodbye," she said. Her voice was small and quivering but behind it was an edge of desperate need.

The infant was carefully cleaned and wrapped in fresh linens, then handed over to Mariwen.

As she held him in her arms, her tears fell onto his tiny face.

"Brennon," she whispered. "Your name is Brennon." She kissed his forehead and delicately wiped the tears away that had fallen on to his wrinkled, papery skin. Her voice wavered and cracked. "You're going to be with your father now." She hugged the tiny body to her tighter. "Oh, my little baby boy, I'm so sorry!" she wept.

Jordan lowered her head, not wanting to bear witness to this painful parting, while the others silently gathered up the supplies and dirty linens and slipped out the door. After Mariwen finished her goodbyes, the tiny body was whisked away to be prepared for burial.

Astrid waited just outside the door. She had with her a tincture for Mariwen to help her sleep. After the room cleared out, she rejoined Jordan. Mariwen took it with little protest, almost too exhausted to raise her head. When she was asleep, they left the room quietly shutting the door behind them.

"I am sorry I doubted your skills. You are a gifted healer and midwife," Astrid said.

Jordan nodded in acknowledgment. "Keep watch over her. She will need encouragement and support now more than ever...and of course time. Her wounds will heal quickly but her heart will not."

**************

With heavy feet and an even heavier heart, Jordan left the Houses of Healing to return to her quarters. The festival had already begun for the day and the markets were open. The streets were quickly filling with city-folk, peddlers, and livestock. The roar of talking and laughter grated on her nerves as she wove her way through the crowds. The world does not stop for the pain of others. It carries on as it always has and always will.

When she finally made it back to the sanctuary of her quarters, Legolas was waiting for her, sitting calmly in a chair by the door to the balcony.

"You were supposed to be resting, my love," he chided but when he felt her pain through their bond, he sprang silently to his feet and crossed the room quick as lightning. His worried eyes searched hers. "What is it? What has happened _meleth-nin_?"

Jordan moved past him and flopped down on the bed on her back with a heavy sigh. Legolas followed and reclined on his side next to her. He took her hand and kissed it, waiting for her to speak.

"You know Mariwen, Firindor's wife?"

"Yes. I remember her."

She proceeded to tell him all that had transpired that morning. A shadow fell across Legolas' face and he too let out a sigh. It was a perfect reminder of how fragile the lives of mortals really were.

"Had this happened at home, had she been a patient of mine in the hospital, I could have helped her. But here? Without any of the tools of modern medicine?" She pounded her fists into the bed in frustration. "Here I am helpless! There was nothing I could do!"

"I do not pretend to know what you were capable of in your world but I am certain you did all that you could and that is all anyone can ask of you."

"First her husband and now her baby. How much can one person bear? Why does there have to be so much pain in life?" It was a question she already knew there was no answer for but felt compelled to ask it anyway.

"I do not know. One could no sooner know the number of stars that fills the firmament than the answer to that," he replied softly. "Is there anything I can do for you? Anything I can get you?"

"Just hold me," she said defeatedly. "I just want to feel your arms around me."

Legolas curled himself around her and draped his arm over her side, whispering words of comfort to her in his native tongue. Though she did not understand them, she listened to their soothing tones and they lay quietly for a long while.

"Come," he said finally, patting her arm as he sat up, "we must get ready for the celebration."

She shook her head. "I don't want to go. You go on ahead."

"Jordan, you cannot spend the evening sulking in your quarters."

"Why not? How can I celebrate after what happened today?"

"What happened to Mariwen was a tragedy, but it is over and done. Dwelling on it accomplishes nothing."

Jordan sat up with a start. "What? Are you saying I shouldn't grieve for my friend?"

"No. You can, and should, grieve for her but it does not mean you have to put all else aside."

"I'm not!" she insisted. "I just feel guilty for going out and having a good time while she is in pain."

"Your guilt will not heal her wounds nor will you inflict any by attending the celebration. Would Mariwen expect you to deny yourself enjoyment because of what happened to her?"

"No."

"Would you rather spend the evening comforting her instead? I would not be opposed to it."

"No," she said with a heavy sigh. "Astrid gave her something to help her sleep. She will most likely sleep until tomorrow morning."

"Then you have done all that you can for her. Come with me to the celebration. It will do you good to be out amongst friends. Besides," he added, "who will I dance with in your absence?"

Jordan grimaced. "Ugh. That. I almost forgot."

Legolas smiled and lifted her chin with the tip of his finger. "Yes, _that_." He kissed her softly, his lips lingering on hers for a moment before he pulled away.

She made a noise somewhere between a moan and a growl. "How can I resist you when you do that...when you look at me like that?" she complained.

"A good question. How?"

Legolas cupped her face in his hands and kissed her again.

"You know there will be the finest musicians from regions near and far. You are always saying how music is hard to come by in Middle-earth. This is your chance to hear some."

She paused for a moment, looking into his eyes. She could feel the ebb and flow of their love through their bond. It was like a life force unto its own. She spent her whole life knowing nothing of it and now she knew with absolute certainty she could not live without it. It overcame her with the fiercest of emotions. The gift of his love was like a sacred treasure to her because she knew all too well its hefty price. His sacrifice was not that he would have to give up his life for her, but that he _could_ _not_ give up his life for her. His sacrifice was that he would endure—alone. She was taken by the overwhelming urge to protect him, to prevent any suffering no matter how great or small, and to ensure his happiness while she still lived. Their time was too short to waste for any reason.

She stretched out her hand and stroked the top of his head, running her hand down the length of his hair.

"It would make you happy if I went."

"Aye, it would very much," he said softly.

"Okay, I will go. I want nothing more in this life than to make you happy. I will do whatever you want, go wherever you want; I will deny you nothing—" She stopped abruptly and sighed in frustration. Words would never convey the surge of emotion she felt.

He was struck with the intensity of her sudden outpouring, and a little confused as well. He had to stop and think. Had he given her the impression that he would be angry if she did not attend the celebration? Disappointed, yes, but not angry.

"Where did all this come from?"

"I don't know. I was just thinking and...I just...I love you so much. I don't want anything to stand in the way of our time together when we have so little of it."

Legolas frowned. "I love you as well, but I do not wish for you to sacrifice your own needs for the sake of my happiness. If you really do not want to go—"

She stopped him. "No. I _want_ to go. I want to be where you are. You are right. I can go to the celebration as well as keep Mariwen in my heart and in my thoughts."

He smiled again and kissed her forehead. "Alright then. Shall I have a bath drawn for you?"

Jordan looked down at herself. Though her dress was surprising unsoiled, she felt tainted. "Please."

"Alright. Will one hour be sufficient for you to bathe and dress?"

"It should be."

"Very well. One hour then."

Legolas left and the shortly thereafter the servants arrived to draw her bath.

She bathed as quickly as she could, focusing on the tasks at hand so her thoughts would not drift to the events of that morning. Just as the water evaporated from her skin, so did lessen the ache in her heart. She thumbed through the contents of the wardrobe with mild contempt. Her choices were few; a handful of plain, dull gowns. The problem was she didn't know what to expect of a celebration such as this. She imagined beautiful women twirling gracefully in extravagant ball gowns, and she would look like the hired help in comparison. She reluctantly settled on the claret-colored gown she had purchased at the market.

She was sitting at the vanity, brushing her hair when Legolas returned. He walked up behind her and placed a kiss at her neck.

"You look beautiful."

"Pfff," she scoffed.

"What?"  
Jordan stood up and held out the sides of her skirt. "I look like a peasant," she said sullenly.

Legolas threw his head back and laughed. "Hardly. I like that dress." He looked her figure up and down. "It accentuates your...uh..." He made a motion across his chest, an awkward grin on his face. She raised an eyebrow at him, then turned to study herself in the mirror.

"Hmph."

Legolas wrapped his arms around her waist from behind and spoke to her reflection in the mirror. "So self-conscious you are my dear one. You do not see yourself as I see you. I see a beautiful woman. She is intelligent. She fascinates me. She makes me laugh and she makes me feel things I have never felt before: desire...passion. _She_ is whom my heart has chosen, so you see, there is no need to be anything more than you already are to make me love you."

She gazed at their reflections. Her eyes wandered back and forth between the two figures in the mirror. One tall and beautiful with eyes the color of glacier ice and long shimmering silver-blond hair; the other, shorter and rather plain. There was nothing striking about her features. Her hair hung limply on either side of her face, two-tone in color as the highlights had grown out considerably since her arrival to Middle-earth. She felt a surge of comfort through their bond and knew Legolas conjured it purposely. His words, however, were not spoken simply to pacify her; she knew he truly believed them. Still, it was hard to undo years of self-doubt. She wondered if there would ever come of time when she felt worthy of his love. With a sigh, she forced herself to push aside her misgivings for the time being.

"Are you ready?" he asked.

"I just have to figure out what I'm going to do with my hair."

"Let me help."

She sat back down at the vanity. He took a small section of hair on each side, twisted them loosely, and pinned them together behind her head.

"There," he said as pushed the last pin into place. "Is it to your liking?"

Jordan nodded in approval. "It's fine. Thank you."

He offered his arm to her. "Well, then, shall we?"

********

Jordan heard the roar of the crowd before they even reached the seventh level. As they emerged on the green of the courtyard, through the purple-gray filter of dusk, Jordan saw more people filling the courtyard that she had ever seen. The open-air kitchens and ale tents were still serving and the smell of roasting meat and wood smoke hung in the air. Colorful flags and banners strung up between tall posts billowed in the breeze. The cacophony of voices and laughter was deafening. Jordan clutched Legolas' hand tightly as they plunged into the crowd and wound their way through the multitude of people. Drawing nearer to the Hall of Kings, Jordan began to hear the faint sound of music drifting through the air. Drums. Strings. A flute. Simple instruments weaving an ancient melody no less beautifully than their modern counterparts.

(To listen along, go to saoirselochlann dot com/chapter24 dot html)

The Hall of Kings was only slightly less crowded than the courtyard. As Jordan peered across the sea of people, the first thing that caught her eye was Aragorn and Arwen seated on their raised thrones at the far end of the massive room. Both dressed in shades of gold and sapphire and adorned with crowns, they looked like statues of a god and goddess hovering above the masses. Jordan heard the musicians somewhere to her left, but could not see them through the throng of people. Along the outer edges of the room, people gathered in groups watching and talking as those in the center danced. Jordan stood on her tiptoes, leaning this way and that, trying to get a better view of the people dancing. To her relief, they were not collectively performing a choreographed dance as had she envisioned in her head. To Jordan, the style was more reminiscent of an Irish jig, and some weren't even dancing at all, just jumping and spinning about. Legolas gave her hand a tug.

"Come my love. I have found Gimli."

Gimli was standing against the wall near the entrance talking with a group of Dwarf men, each holding a mug of ale. Their animated gestures as they spoke sent waves of foamy ale flying through the air, though none of them seemed to mind. Gandalf was there as well, standing between two large pillars, a safe distance away from the spray.

"Legolas, my lad!" Gimli yelled and slapped Legolas' shoulder, sending more ale sloshing to the floor.

"Hello again, Gimli," Jordan said.

Gimli took her hand. "My lady, you look as pretty as a jewel."

"Thank you, Gimli."

Gimli introduced his companions as Bur, Othin, and Nithi, who also resided in the Glittering Caves.

"Hammer and tongs!" Gimli cursed, looking down into his mug. "My ale is all but gone!"

Jordan giggled. "No wonder. Half of it is on the floor."

"Aye, but the other half is in my belly, and that's more important." Jordan giggled again and Legolas grinned. "Me thinks another journey to the ale tent is in order! I will return. But if I should not, you will find me somewhere between here and there." Gimli exclaimed, pointing to himself and the door to the courtyard.

"Just look on the ground 'neath the ale spigot!" Othin bellowed. All the Dwarves broke out in raucous laughter sending more ale flying and they disappeared into the crowd, still laughing as they went.

"My goodness! Are all Dwarves that rowdy?" Jordan shouted to Legolas over the noise of the crowd.

"Only after ten pints." Legolas replied as they made their way over to where Gandalf was.

"Good evening, Gandalf." Legolas greeted him.

"Ah, Legolas and the lady Jordan. So good to see you. This is a fine faire befitting a Hobbit, is it not?" Gandalf mused solemnly as he took a long drag from his pipe and blew lazy smoke rings into the air.

"Aye, it is," Legolas agreed, though his voice too had lost its enthusiasm. "It is a shame they could not be here."

"Indeed," Gandalf said and went back to gazing out over the crowd, chewing on the stem of his pipe absentmindedly.

Jordan thought it odd that the old wizard's mood was rather subdued in the midst of a celebration in honor of one she thought was his friend. Legolas' mood seemed to dim slightly as well for a moment and she wondered if there was more to the story than she had been told.

"Have you seen Faramir or Éowyn? I have yet to find them." Legolas asked of the wizard.

"Hmm? Oh, yes. They are out there," he said, pointing to the middle of the crowd, "dancing."

Legolas turned to Jordan. "Shall we join them?"

"Ehh..."

"You promised," Legolas reminded her.

"I know."

Legolas led her through the crowd towards the center of the hall. He quickly turned, slipped one arm around Jordan's waist and grasped her hand with his free one, bringing it up to shoulder height as if they were ready to dance a waltz.

"Wait!" she said, panicking.

"What is it?"

"I thought we were going to look for Éowyn and Faramir."

His eyes twinkled with amusement and he smiled. "We will."

(To listen along go to saoirselochlann dot com/chapter 24 dot html)

The musicians started to play a slow and gentle melody.

"Just relax and follow my lead."

Legolas' beginning steps were slow and deliberate as he glided to the side, forward and back. Jordan still managed to step on his toes a few times, but he remained unfazed.

"Sorry," she mumbled.

"You are doing well. Your posture is still rigid, though." He pulled her body against his and rested their clasped hands against his shoulder. "Relax into me. Feel where I am leading you and step in that direction." They continued to glide and turn slowly across the dance floor. Jordan did better once she could feel the motion of his body.

"I think I'm catching on."

"You are doing splendidly." The tempo of the music increased a step. Jordan laughed as he twirled her in circles.

"This is kind of fun," she admitted. The music began to build, increasing in tempo. Faster they went, gliding and turning. Legolas lifted her up easily about a foot off the floor, holding her tightly against him. She laughed again as he spun her around and around. Everything seemed to fall away as she looked down into his eyes and nothing existed but them and the music for a moment. He let her down gently as the music slowed, her body sliding down against his. As the last few notes drifted away, they clung to each other, their eyes still locked. Jordan was smiling, the exhilaration of it all leaving her tingling and breathless.

"Our first dance."

"I shall cherish it always," he said contentedly.

Éowyn and Faramir came up to them from amongst the crowd.

"Good evening Legolas, Lady Jordan," Faramir said with a polite nod.

Jordan grinned sheepishly, embarrassed by the thought that someone she knew might have seen her dance but neither of them made any remarks.

"Are you enjoying the festival?" Éowyn asked Jordan.

"Oh, yes. Very much."

"We have spoken with Aragorn and Arwen and they wish us to join them at their home in one hour for a private gathering." Faramir informed them.

Legolas nodded his head. "Then we will be there."

"Relay the message to the others for me? It seems Éomer has yet to make his appearance and I can no longer locate Gimli."

Jordan pointed her thumb towards the doors and said with a grin, "Ale tent."

Faramir laughed. "I should have known." The musicians had already begun playing another tune and Faramir grabbed Éowyn's hand and twirled her around. "Begging your pardon, but the music is right and I must dance with my lovely wife."

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Legolas turned to Jordan. "And what of you, my love? Might I entice you to one more dance?"

Jordan looked around. "Shouldn't we go find Gimli and tell him about the gathering?"

"There will be time for that. Come now. Just one more and then I shan't ask again."

Before she could find another reason to decline, she found herself being whisked across the floor.

One dance turned into two, then three. The crowd around them seemed to fade into the background. All Jordan knew was the face of her love smiling down at her and his arms around her. As she smiled back, she could not recall a happier time. Suddenly, a painful jolt down her leg brought the world rushing back in, and she cried out, her hands flying to grasp the offending limb. She would have fallen had Legolas not been there to catch her.

"Jordan! Are you alright?" Legolas' eyes were wide with concern. "What happened?"

Jordan shook her head. "I don't know."

"It is your injured leg, is it not?"

"Yes."

"Perhaps you have overused it?"

"Yeah, maybe," she agreed.

"Let us find you a place to sit down."

He helped her over to the far wall where Gandalf still stood and found an empty bench.

"Is everything alright?" Gandalf asked.

"Yes, its fine. My leg is just bothering me a bit."

"Shall I fetch a healer?"

"No, no, that's not necessary. Thank you. I just need to rest for a moment."

She dismissed their concern, not allowing her thoughts to explore other, darker possibilities but she could not stop the sinking feeling in her heart. She tried her best to keep her feelings hidden so Legolas could not sense them. She smiled at him and tucked a loose strand of hair behind his ear.

"Don't worry—" Before she could finish her sentence, she was interrupted by the arrival of Gimli and his Dwarven friends.

"Did we miss anything?" Gimli asked.

Jordan breathed a sigh of relief, grateful for the distraction.

Suddenly, cheering erupted from the crowd. Legolas stood up to see what was happening.

"What's going on?" Jordan asked.

"Aragorn is about to speak."

Scanning the backs of the crowd, Jordan noticed Éomer standing a few feet away, Faramir and Éowyn as well, with their attention turned towards Aragorn.

"Fellow Gondorians. Friends. Today we celebrate the birth of a great hero to these lands and _all_ of Middle-earth!" The crowd erupted in applause and cheering. "Frodo Baggins did not consider himself a hero. He was not a soldier, nor did he have any training in combat. He accepted the task of destroying the Ring of Power not to prove his valor but simply because in his heart, he knew it was right. It takes courage to do the right thing, knowing there will be dangerous consequences...to put yourself in harms way for the greater good. So if we take away anything on this day, let it be this: _always_ strive to do the right thing...however great or small the task, no matter the risk. Do that, and there is nothing we as a people cannot achieve." He raised his gleaming pewter tankard in the air. "To Frodo!"

"To Frodo!" The crowd echoed.

Aragorn raised his hands to silence the crowd. "Tonight, we have in attendance some special guests. They have traveled far from the North-kingdom. Welcome them."

There were quiet gasps and murmurs from the crowd. Jordan craned her neck trying to see above the heads of the people, but to no avail. She stood up balancing most of her weight carefully on her good leg. On the stage, she saw four of the most beautiful women she had ever seen. They wore flowing white dresses. Each had the same shade of golden hair that cascaded to their waist in curls and on top of each of their heads sat a crown of vines and green leaves.

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They began to sing an eerie, haunting melody. No one spoke; no one moved. It was if the entire crowd had been rendered immobile by their siren's song. Jordan stilled too, staring, unable to take her eyes off the women. Their voices seemed to rise up and drift through the crowd like a mist, seeping into the empty spaces. Jordan felt the music pass through her like a ghost and she shivered.

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Before the crowd could awaken from their enchantment, the four women began another song. Jordan, so entranced by the music, was barely aware of Legolas taking hold of her arm and leading her to stand in front of him. He wrapped his arms around her, rocking her gently to the beat of the drums.

The applause sounded like an explosion making Jordan jump. When the applause died away Aragorn and Arwen descended their thrones and left the Hall of Kings. Éomer, Éowyn and Faramir walked up, joining the rest of the group.

"It is time." Éomer stated.

With the entire company now assembled, they made their way through the crowd outside to the courtyard. Gimli's Dwarven friends departed and the rest continued on to the home of Aragorn and Arwen for the private gathering.

****************

They were quickly ushered in to the large, ornate dining hall where the Aragorn and Arwen were waiting to greet them. A large fire roared in the oversized hearth. There was enough food and drink to feed a small army. The king and queen never did anything in moderation. Everyone was in high spirits as they ate and talked and drank and laughed. Even Gandalf seemed to be enjoying himself despite his earlier solemnity. Jordan didn't mind not having much to say when the topic of conversation was of something she knew little about. In these moments, she watched and listened, taking everything in, recording every little detail to memory: the way Gandalf's eyes twinkled as he spoke; Éomer's wide smile and infectious laugh; the little curve of Éowyn's pregnant belly starting to show through her dress; the way Faramir looked longingly at his wife when he thought she wasn't looking; Aragorn's openness and wit; Arwen's quiet gracefulness; Gimli's animated gestures. Then, of course, there was Legolas: the musical tone to his laughter, the way his hair swayed against his back as he moved, the way he would stretch out his hand for her to grasp knowing she was near without looking. As she looked around the room, she marveled at the fact that these were her friends. Any one of them would come to her aid and it had been a long time since she could say that. She would wrap these moments up and tuck them away, so that they may be relived in a time when happiness was harder to come by.

*************

Gandalf made his way to the head of the table and cleared his throat gaining everyone's attention.

"I have some news to share with all of you disheartening as it may be. I regret that my timing is ill conceived, but sadly, time is a luxury I no longer have. I will be departing for Lothlórien tomorrow at first light."

Jordan felt a pang of anguish coming from Legolas through their bond as sharp as a knife. She had to stifle a gasp.

"Frodo is not well. While his companions have returned to their former lives, Frodo has not been able to find peace in the Shire nor acceptance from his fellow Hobbits. The wounds he received from the Witch-king and Shelob have never fully healed. But a greater burden still is the guilt he feels for not being able to destroy the ring and the desire he still has for it. Eventually, it will drive him mad. It has already begun. The Ring has changed Frodo. He is no longer the Hobbit we once knew."

There were looks of shock and concern on everyone's faces; everyone's that is, except for Legolas'.

'He already knew,' Jordan thought to herself. This would explain both Legolas and Gandalf's melancholy disposition earlier.

"Just like it changed Gollum." Faramir said darkly.

"No, not like Gollum. Frodo was never fully seduced by its power, but it will destroy him nonetheless, one way or another."

"And here we are celebrating the one thing that has become his undoing!" Aragorn said loathingly.

"We all bear the scars of war, Aragorn. Frodo is no different. The fact that he carried the ring as far as he did is a testament to his resilience and strength and should never be forgotten."

"Is he going to die?" Éowyn asked.

"Physically, no, but his spirit will waste away until he is nothing more than a shell of his former self."

"There must be something we can do for the lad," Gimli said.

"Neither the passage of time or the most skilled of healers can help Frodo now. But all is not lost. It has been decided that Frodo will pass into the West and it is hoped that there in the Undying Lands, he will find the peace and healing he seeks."

"The Undying Lands? How can that be?" Faramir asked. "I thought the Undying Lands were a place reserved only for the immortal."

"Indeed it has never been done before. As an emissary of the Valar, I beseeched them on Frodo's behalf. Because of the great burden that Frodo had borne, they granted him permission to enter the Blessed Realm; Bilbo as well, for he was also a Ring-bearer for a time."

"What will become of them? Will they become immortal too?" Gimli asked.

"No. The Valar have neither the power nor the right to confer immortality. Their sojourn will merely be a purgatory of sorts but one of healing and reflection until the time comes when they must pass away as all mortals do."

Those last words stung Jordan and she dropped her gaze to the floor.

"When will this come to pass?" Aragorn asked.

"We shall depart next spring. It is too late in the season now to make it through the mountain passes."

"Though your words might imply you are merely accompanying Frodo and Bilbo to the Gray Havens, I know it in my heart to be something more." Faramir said sadly.

"Yes, Faramir, your heart speaks the truth. Galadriel, Elrond, and I – the bearers of the three Elven Rings - will depart Middle-earth as well, never to return. And so it shall be: The Last Journey of the Ring-Bearers."

"Why, Gandalf? Why must you leave?" Aragorn asked.

"I have accomplished what I set out to do. My mission is complete and now my time here is finished."

"Who will we call on for aid if evil should arise again?" Éomer asked.

"It is up to you now, the free peoples of Middle-earth, to handle your own affairs. It is no longer my task to set things right nor to help you to do so. Though I do not think you will need any help. I have seen all of you grow in wisdom and strength. You have plunged into the darkness and come out the other side, forging a new destiny for Middle-earth and I no longer fear for any of you."

The entire company stood silent and still, eyes unblinking, with their faces downcast, though no one had more cause to grieve than Aragorn and Faramir, as they had known Gandalf the longest of any of them.

"Do not despair my dear friends. For every ending, there is a new beginning. You are coming into another chapter of your lives. One of peace and contentment. Enjoy it, relish every moment, for you have earned it." After a pause, he said, "With the festival coming to an end, I suspect - with the exception of our gracious hosts - all of us will be bidding the city and each other farewell, is this not so?"

"Yes. Tomorrow will be a day of preparation, the next day we ride." Faramir answered.

"I will be leaving in all haste for Dol Amroth at first light tomorrow. Perhaps I will not even wait for the sun to awake from its slumber. I have tarried here too long. I can only hope my letter has found its way to Lothiriel before I do," Éomer said.

"Well then, is this the way we want to spend our last moments together? Brooding and with heavy hearts?"

A chorus of half-hearted no's echoed the room and the celebration resumed though not with quite the same vigor it started out with.

**************

The friends lingered long into the night, telling tales of old and drinking wine, reluctant to part. It was Gandalf, whose departure finally brought about the end of the celebration.

"Well, the time has come when I must say goodbye. A wizard I may be," he stood up slowly, bones creaking, with hat and staff in hand, "but an old one, and I still need my rest. I consider myself fortunate to have kept company with some of the finest people in Middle-earth. You will forever be in my thoughts...and in my heart. Farewell dear friends."

Gandalf turned and walked towards the door, robes billowing out behind him. Just before he stepped through the threshold, he glanced back and gave one last solemn nod, then he was gone.

Jordan and Legolas were the last to bid Aragorn and Arwen goodnight and fell in a ways behind the straggled group as they made their way back to the courtyard. She felt an ache in her heart, a strange and lingering melancholy like from a distant memory. It was Legolas' emotions coming through their bond. She glanced up at his face. He wore a blank expression, staring straight ahead, as he walked. She wrapped her arm around his waist and pulled him closer. He looked down at her and smiled but it did not quite reach his eyes. Her leg was still bothering her, but she hid it from Legolas; the discomfort was manageable. He had enough to worry about.

Up ahead of her, Éomer walked alone. She didn't know if it was from the emotions coming from Legolas affecting her, but it made her sad to think she might never see him again. She could not let him leave without saying goodbye.

"I would like to say goodbye to Éomer, if you don't mind. I may not get another chance," she said to Legolas.

"Of course, my love. I need to speak with Faramir, anyway, before he retires for the evening. Éomer!" he called out.

Éomer halted for a moment and allowed them to catch up.

"Yes?"

"Walk with Jordan a moment? I need to go on ahead and speak with Faramir."

Éomer smiled. "Of course." It pleased him that, after what passed between them, Legolas trusted him enough to walk alone with his lady.

"Thank you," Legolas said to Éomer. He gave Jordan a quick kiss on the cheek. "I will meet you in the courtyard." He jogged off to catch up to Faramir who was at the head of the group.

Éomer dipped his head politely and offered his arm. "Lady Jordan."

"Hello Éomer," she said, intertwining her arm with his. They continued walking at a slow pace towards the courtyard.

"So you're leaving tomorrow, huh?"

"Yes, that is the plan."

"How far away is Dol Amroth?"

"Two days' journey on horseback...if the weather holds."

"That's quite far."

Éomer shrugged. "I have traveled much further for much less."

"You love her a lot, don't you."

He smiled. "More than anything. But we are stubborn, her and I. It took trying to envision a life with someone else to make me see there can be no other. I just hope it is not too late."

"If you love each other, nothing else matters. _Time_ does not matter." After a pause, she said, "I should know."

Éomer stopped and gave her a meaningful look. There was a hint of sadness in his eyes.

"Yes, I suppose you would, wouldn't you? I am sorry. I do not envy the path you have chosen and the pain it will bring you both."

Jordan took a deep breath and smiled stoically. "Don't be. We were brought together by fate. I can only believe there is some kind of plan for us. I have no regrets."

As they rounded the corner of the Hall of Kings, Jordan saw Legolas waiting for her in the now empty courtyard by the White Tree.

"I have enjoyed getting to know you, Lady Jordan."

"Me too, Éomer." She patted his arm. "I'm sure everything will work out just fine. You'll see."

He laughed once. "I wish I shared your confidence, Lady Jordan."

"After all," she gave him a playful shove with her shoulder, "who could resist a handsome king?"

He nudged her back. "_You _did." They both shared a laugh.

"You think we'll see each other again some day?"

"I truly hope so, Lady Jordan," he said with a grin.

************

Legolas remained silent on the walk back to the guest quarters. Instead of going to his own, he followed Jordan into hers as he often did, staying with her until she was sleeping. Inside, a fire burned low to ward off the evening chill. He moved the two chairs in front of the hearth and motioned for her to sit.

"How is your leg feeling?"

She rubbed it absentmindedly. "It aches some but I'm sure it will be fine tomorrow."

"Would you like me to heat some water for tea?"

"No. Don't trouble yourself. Come sit down."

He did not sit in the chair beside her, but on the floor at her feet with his back against her legs. He rested his head on her knee and closed his eyes. Jordan stroked his hair as she bent down to place a soft kiss on his ear.

"I'm sorry about your friend," she whispered. "I am certain he will find healing in the Undying Lands."

He nodded without opening his eyes. "I will always wonder if we could have done things differently...that perhaps if we had, Frodo could be living out his life in the Shire," after a pause he said, "but five months or fifty years, it makes no difference. It is but a short time for me and one by one," his voice cracked and grew quiet, "everyone I love will pass on." Jordan squeezed her eyes shut from the pain he felt; the pain she felt _from_ him through their bond. She bent down and hugged him tightly. "I'm so sorry, my love. I wish there was something I could do or say to ease your pain."

"You're here and that is enough," he whispered.

'For now,' she thought. She sat up and began to stroke his hair again. "Can I undo your braids?" she asked.

Legolas raised his head. "Why?"

"Well you don't sleep with them in, right?"

"No."

"I like when you brush my hair and put it up. I find it soothing. I thought maybe I could do the same for you."

He nodded. "If you wish."

Untying the little leather thong that held it, she gently began to separate the strands of the small braid on the side, combing it through with her fingers, and then moved to the other side. Legolas sighed and closed his eyes. She worked slowly, as it was more about the process than the result. Once she had the intricate weave of the top braid undone, she shook out his hair and let it fall around his face. Curiously, his hair did not retain the shape of the braids; it remained straight. She didn't want to get up to get her brush, so she combed through his hair repeatedly with her fingers, letting her nails graze lightly across his scalp.

"Mmm. That is nice."

With her fingers buried in his hair, she started to massage his head, working from front to back, then down to his neck and shoulders. She felt his body relax against her legs. She slid her hands down his chest as she leaned over him. Putting her mouth to his ear, she whispered, "Stay with me tonight."

He shook his head. "You know we cannot."

"Please."

He removed her hands and turned around. "Jordan, as much as I want to, we would not be able to control ourselves."

"I could control myself," she said in a tiny voice.

"Perhaps you could, but I could not."

"Couldn't we at least try? I just want to be near you. You can return to your quarters if our...passion gets out of hand."

"What if we cannot stop ourselves?"

"Would that be so terrible?"

His brows furrowed in disbelief. "You know what that would mean, then."

She shook her head. "I don't care."

"That is just the desire of the bond speaking. We have been too close for too long today. You are not being rational."

"Not being rational?" she said indignantly. She opened her mouth to say something else, but then closed it. She huffed and flopped against the back of the chair. There was some truth to what he said.

Rising up on his knees, he stroked her cheek, and then kissed her deeply. She groaned as he pulled away too soon for her liking.

"Jordan," he implored, "I will marry you, and we will be together, but we must do it properly. Because we are not in a time of war, there is no need for haste. We must adhere to tradition. My father, everyone, would expect no less."

She studied his face thinking about what he had said. She sighed and nodded in resignation. Legolas took her hands and kissed them. "Patience, my love." He got up from the floor and sat in the chair next to her.

The thought of his father made her uneasy. He was a king; his son, a prince. She was essentially a commoner and a mortal besides.

"How will your father feel about you marrying a mortal?"

"I honestly do not know."

"What if he does not approve?"

He stared into the fire. "It matters not. My life is my own." After a moment, he gave her a sidelong glance. "You should get some rest. We have a busy day tomorrow. I will stay until you are sleeping."

*************

The morning sun shone dimly through the heavy fog that shrouded the city casting gloomy shadows. It seemed fitting, as the last day of Cormarë was to honor the dead. Among them, was Firindor, Mariwen's husband. Jordan was somewhat glad they were not going to the ceremony. She had had her share of sorrow for the last few days. The majority of the day was to be spent preparing for their return to Emyn Arnen. They would depart Minas Tirith at first light tomorrow. Gimli and his three Dwarven companions would be accompanying them to deliver the consignment of ithildin-etched stones for Legolas' garden.

As Jordan packed, she was filled with mixed emotions. The city had been her home for months. She had become accustomed to the hustle and bustle. In contrast, Emyn Arnen seemed so...isolated. Also, she would be leaving behind the friends she had made. She would miss Mariwen and even the ancient motherly Astrid who talked too much for her own good. She would miss Aragorn and Arwen. She knew Legolas would too. Even though he lived alongside Faramir, he was not as close to Faramir as he was Aragorn. Perhaps it was that Aragorn was closer to Legolas' kin than any man or that Aragorn's marriage to Arwen mirrored his own relationship. Whatever it was, she enjoyed the way they interacted, jesting with each other like overgrown children. It made Legolas smile. She liked it when he smiled. But there was pain here too: in the Houses of Healing where she found Turgon, her tutor and friend, dead on the floor; his throat slashed by an Orc blade; in the garden where she wept after breaking Legolas' heart; in the archives overwhelmed with despair; in the eyes of her friend who lost her husband and baby. The pain she was eager to leave behind. Her thoughts turned to Mariwen again. She worried for her – worried what would become of her if not properly cared for mentally as well as physically.

It was late in the afternoon when Legolas came in and plopped himself in a chair. He looked around at the bags she had packed.

"We have secured two carts and the horses are ready and—" He looked up at her face and saw the distress there. "—what is wrong_ meleth-nin_? He stood up and wrapped his arms around her. She rested her cheek against his shoulder.

"Oh, nothing," she sighed. "Its just hard leaving, you know? I was only in Emyn Arnen for a short while before we came here. I never felt at home there. I've finally gotten used to it here. I like it here."

There was the tiniest hint of sadness in his voice. "I am certain Aragorn would give you more permanent quarters if you so desired...but as for me, I have no other choice but to return to the colony that I am founder of and lord over."

"Legolas, I know you can't stay here and I would never want to live apart from you. I only like it here because of the people around me, not for the city itself. Everyone I've come to care about was all right here. Now everyone will be going their separate ways. I don't do well with change and that seems to be the only constant around here."

He guided her over to the chair and sat her down. Kneeling in front of her, he took her hands in his.

"I am sorry my love. It is easy to see why you would identify with a group of people instead of the land, as you have no homeland of your own. Once you decide on where you would like to establish yourself, the sense of belonging you are looking for will come, but you must be patient. It takes time to settle into a new home."

"But where? Minas Tirith? Emyn Arnen? I don't feel like I belong in either place," she said with a tone of frustration.

He searched her eyes. "You said you did not want to live where I am not, so I should think that would be plainly obvious."

"The Elf colony? Can I do that?"

"Of course. I am lord and master of the colony. I say who stays or goes."

"But what if the other Elves don't want an outsider coming into their home?"

"Some will not, but I think you will find most of the Elves to be accommodating. Is that not the way it is in your world as well?"

"Yes, I suppose it is."

She looked at him for a long while. In his eyes, she could see all of the possibilities of the new beginning she had hope to find in Middle-earth and she knew then it was the right decision.

She nodded her acceptance. "Will I like it?"

He kissed her hands and smiled. "I am certain you will be far from disappointed."

"What about Éowyn and Faramir? I feel bad just leaving them after they were kind enough to take me in and care for me."

"I would not worry. I am certain they will understand. The colony is only a half-day's ride from Emyn Arnen. You can visit them anytime you wish."

"Can I have my own house? Not just a room in someone else's house?"

Legolas laughed softly. "Yes, there are several dwellings to choose from. Some of the Elves have already moved on to the Undying Lands, since settling in the colony. There is also an assortment of furniture that has been left behind. You may have your pick of it. Whatever you need, I will see to it."

Jordan tingled with excitement. She felt like a kid making out her Christmas list.

"Can I have a garden as well to grow vegetables? I have never had one before."

I can help you plant a small one if you wish, but it is not necessary to grown your own food. The kitchens have large gardens where all of the food for the colony is grown, and cooks there are too. Mealtimes are thrice a day served in the hall of the Great House. There is a library there, many sitting rooms and a healing wing also; which should please you."

Legolas was still on his knees looking up at her, a wide smile on his face. She was smiling back at him. She blinked a few times as a rush of heat swept into her cheeks. She felt lightheaded and giddy as if she were coming out of her skin, but it was not a wholly unpleasant feeling. The slight tingling she had felt grew and now spread throughout her arms and legs. This must be what it felt like when their two emotions combined into one.

Jordan put her hands on either side of Legolas' face and kissed him, long and deep.

"Then I am ready to go home."


End file.
